


When the Stars Go Blue

by Anki_Shai



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Thorin, Bard being a good friend, Bottom Thranduil, Caring Thranduil, Confused Bard, Dwarf Courting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Healer Thranduil, Healers, Jealousy, M/M, Magic Revealed, Requited Unrequited Love, Soul Bond, Thorin has always had a thing for Thranduil, Thranduil and Bard Brotp, Thranduil is in denial, Top Thorin, Unresolved Emotional Tension, mentions of Thranduil's wife - Freeform, stubborn Thranduil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anki_Shai/pseuds/Anki_Shai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil was born a healer, his gift could save everyone but it wasn't enough to save his wife.<br/>Now, after all these years of not using his gift he came forward to safe the life of those who despised him; the Elven-King never suspected his actions would activate emotions he thought he had buried the day he lost his wife, or that those emotions were directed to a recovering Thorin who, apparently, has always had a soft spot for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The hands of a healer

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know...I'm not leaving my other stories, I just had to put this here so I don't forget.  
> Thank you for reading and your patience!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently, it has come to my attention that some of my works had been taken down without my authorization and upload for downloading as e-books, mobi, odf, etc and they're charging for some of them. I just want to make clear only AO3 and my personal blog have the full rights of my work, I know this is a fanfiction and that in theory we're using characters and places that don't belong to me, however, the ideas in the story, the plot and other intellectual work is mine and is part of my fellow fanfic writers. Thank you for your consideration.

He walked in very slowly.

The world felt cold, older and darker as he took another step forward. His armor felt heavy on his shoulders, everything was suddenly dense and unbearable but he kept his head high and his steps unfaltering. The sword on his hand trembled slightly when his eyes fell upon the corpses of his enemies, the ones that had come and united Dwarrows, men and elves in one single cause. The Elven-King turned slightly when he heard footsteps approaching from behind; he tensed watching Feren walked towards him his eyes gleaming strangely when he came closer to his King.

“My Lord, we found them.” Feren said, his tone made the King turned to him with sharp, blue eyes.

“What is it?”

Feren hesitated, “My Lord, the young one is holding onto Tauriel. However, the oldest one along with Lord Thorin are…they won’t last the hour.”

Thranduil nodded briefly putting his sword away, Feren tensed for a moment fearing his Lord would merely turn around and let nature run his course. The elf had long ago lost any sense of hope regarding his King and friend, he had seen the darkness consuming Thranduil and the uncaring nature taking over what was once a fine, warm Lord who was always smiling, whose heart was warm and welcoming. But now, Thranduil was cold, bitter and angry without a care for the world outside and barely holding onto his love for his Realm, his people and his son.

Feren stared at his Lord, his shoulders dropping slightly. Just when he was about to turn away Thranduil stopped him.

“Where is Thorin Oakenshield?” Thranduil asked softly though his voice was cold just as his eyes.

“He is by the frozen river, my Lord.” Feren stated with a bubble of hope growing on his chest.

Thranduil stepped forward making his way to the closest entry, “Is the old one, the blond one nearby?”

“He is not, my Lord. But, he can be moved.” Feren commented with his lips curling slightly.

Thranduil nodded curtly, “Then, by all means Commander Feren, bring forward Thorin’s nephews to me.”

“My Lord.” Feren held back his smile turned around and left running.

Thranduil could see the light of the afternoon, the smell of dead and ruin was strong in this place and Thranduil was reminded of everything that had gone wrong in his life. He remembered the battles, the sadness, the blood and all the people he left behind; Thranduil turned around when the memories of silver eyes and golden hair reached his mind and he was reminded of his wife. The Elven-King swallowed down his tears and his own weakness before his feet started moving guiding him to the place where Thorin Oakenshield was holding onto his own life.

The clouds above them were grey and dark, heavy with rain and the passing storm.

Cold was sneaking around taking away the warm of the bodies that just left the battle, the elven soldiers were walking around disposing of the dead or finishing off those orcs still left alive. Thranduil stepped forward with his eyes completely focused on the Dwarven-Lord dressed with royal armor and with the signs of battle still fresh on his façade. As soon as he appeared his eyes caught sight of Legolas, his heart started beating fast when his son appeared alongside Tauriel, both of them making sure to bring forward Thorin’s younger nephew. Legolas stared at his father, his eyes gleaming with sadness and resignation; then came in Feren and he was making sure Thorin’s oldest nephew was being brought with utter care.

“Father…” Legolas started but Thranduil stopped him with a gesture of his head, the Elven-King took off his cloak kneeling down beside Thorin.

The atmosphere around them was really tensed, Feren gave orders left and right while three healers came forward standing right behind their King. Tauriel had tears rolling down her cheeks, her green eyes staring at Thranduil while the three Dwarven-Lords were placed beside one another.

“Make sure everything is ready in the camp.” Thranduil commanded to Galion who was just standing beside the healers. “I want everything ready for their recovery. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my King.” Galion turned around leaving alongside other two elves.

Legolas furrowed his brows glancing at Tauriel then at Feren who had just joined them, the commander looked down at the King then at his Prince.

Thranduil placed a hand above Thorin’s face, he furrowed his brows taking deep breaths. Everything around them was silent; Thranduil remembered the last time he had done this. He remembered it had been useless, he remembered his wife leaving this world and there was nothing Thranduil could have done to safe her. She had died with a smile on her beautiful face, her words had been directed to their son. Thranduil hesitated, his hand faltered slightly before he concentrated again.

“What are you doing?” Everyone gasped in surprise when Bilbo appeared right from behind one of the healers, he had dried blood on his head and his eyes were staring at Thorin.

“King Thranduil is a born healer.” Feren said softly, Legolas opened his eyes at this new revelation just as Tauriel turned to Feren then to Thranduil.

Bilbo furrowed his brows glancing at Thranduil who hadn’t moved his hand from Thorin’s forehead.

“What does it mean?” Bilbo asked in a thin voice.

Thranduil tilted his head to see Bilbo behind him, his face never changed his blank façade but his eyes were carrying the weight of his years on Arda in them. For a moment it seemed as if the Elven-King had given up, as if he was about to stand up and leave the Dwarrows for dead. Then, Thranduil nodded to the healers who started acting without a single word, putting forward their pouches with different ointments and healing herbs. Thranduil turned around to Thorin, his fingers brushing against the skin of the dwarf feeling as the warm started leaving his body.

“We have little time.” Thranduil spoke firmly. “If you want to save him, Tauriel, you better start helping me here.”

Tauriel gaped at her King; she glanced at Kíli then back at Thranduil before kneeling down right beside Kíli. Thranduil worked his hands around the armor and the heavy clothing of Thorin while Legolas went directly to Fíli. Bilbo watched as the three elves started working on the dwarves, cleaning their wounds with some strange liquid the healers passed around while Thranduil mumbled something in elvish. The Elven-King pressed his hand on Thorin’s forehead, his voice soft a mere whispered as he leaned in closer to Thorin. Just went Bilbo started thinking this was not resulting, Thorin took a deep breath moaning in pain.

“Thorin!” Bilbo was stopped before he could move, and he stayed there while he watched the Elven-King leaned forward with his hand gleaming slightly.

Thranduil started feeling it, slowly but surely. He didn’t need to open his eyes to see as his life force started entangling itself with that of the dwarf under him. Thranduil started breathing hard, feeling the strange sensation of sweat rolling down his face; it had been so long since he had used his powers to heal anyone much less to bring someone from the clutches of dead. The Elven-king felt himself getting weaker as he grasped Thorin’s heart with his fëa, the King bit the inside of his cheek to prevent the moan of intense pleasure he felt and he tried to push down the embarrassment he felt at such a primal sensation.  He was supposed to be saving Thorin, not feeling this…this pleasure out of it.

Thorin gasped moaning in pain. 

Everything hurt.

Everything was cold.

Thorin tried to take a deep breath only to discover it was impossible for him to do so. His mind tried to work around what had happened, where he was and who was with him. But everything seemed fuzzy and complicated, the only thing Thorin was sure of was of the sudden warmness he felt in his mind. Or, it was his heart? Thorin couldn’t tell but he knew he didn’t want it over because this warm feeling was better than the pain and the coldness in his body. But, if his body was cold, where was he feeling warm? Confusing. Even his thoughts were confusing.

 _“Thorin…_ ”

Thorin opened his mouth gasping for air, coughing before he exclaimed painfully unable to move or even open his eyes. He was about to drift away in the darkness when the warm feeling was back, this time around a white light came with it and, for some unknown reason, Thorin felt happy. He finally felt happy and complete and as if this was the place he ought to be.

The Elven-King furrowed his brows, his whole body stiffened when he tampered with a very intimated part of the dwarf’s soul. He felt his cheek coloring red and he begged the Valar his long hair was covering the signs of embarrassment on his face. He was about to finish, he just need to reach further and make sure Thorin wouldn’t slip away until he was capable of sustaining his life force.  Thranduil took another breath, his heart beating slowly and surely with a define pattern he was all too familiar with. The Elven-King lifted his eyes to see Thorin’s blond nephew slipping away, he clenched his jaw reaching out further inside Thorin until he grasped the red line that was Thorin’s heart.

“My Lord…” Feren stepped forward but Thranduil shook his head, his right hand on top of Thorin’s chest while the other was resting on the frozen river, Thranduil was breathing hard with heavy drops of sweat rolling down his face and a thin line of blood coming from his nose.

Legolas lifted his face from the blond dwarf to look over at his father, he furrowed his brows with concern showing on his face. He glanced at his father and questions arose in him, questions about this secret his father had kept from him.  The Elven-Prince watched as a thin blue line intertwine with Thranduil’s silver one until they were one; Legolas lifted his face to look over at his father who was now trying to normalize his breathing.

“Tuon, take care of Thorin.” Thranduil commanded giving Thorin one last glance before standing on shaky legs.

Legolas was the first one to get to his father, the young Prince held Thranduil up while the King nodded towards Fíli.

“Now, this one.”

“Father, you don’t look well.” Legolas couldn’t hold back his concern, Thranduil turned to his son smiling weakly.

“And yet, my duty is not over.”

Thranduil knelt down again and proceeded to repeat the same procedure he did with Thorin, this time around the King didn’t delay the process. He didn’t stay to feel every fiber of the dwarf resting before him, Thranduil didn’t wait long to hook his life force with that of the young Prince. Still, it did take some time and his own energy was getting spent while trying to save the last of the Line of Durin. The Elven-King lifted his blue eyes to see Fíli breathing heavily, pain visible in the young face while the Elven-king tried to hold onto the fading life of the Prince.

“Father, you have to rest.” Legolas said kneeling beside his father trying to place a hand on the King when he realized more blood was coming from the elf’s nose. Never before had Legolas seen his father this sick, or this…this human. It was as if the life of the Eldar was leaving him, replaced by mortal life.

Thranduil didn’t speak; he merely shook his head while he glanced at the golden thread coming from Fíli.  It wasn’t until Fíli took a deep breath whimpering with agony, Bilbo gasped watching with big, wide eyes the miracles happening before them.

Legolas glanced at his father then at Feren, both of them were wearing equal concern frowns while Thranduil stood up. Legolas was at his side immediately making sure his father could rest his weight on him. The King then turned to Kíli and Tauriel, the former Captain of the guard was holding the young one’s hand tenderly, her lips mumbling in elvish while Kíli seemed to be trying to hold onto life.

“Father…” Legolas whispered but Thranduil shook his head.

Tauriel lifted her eyes to see Thranduil kneeling at the other side, the King’s hand lifted and the she-elf watched with shock and confusion as her King trembled weakly.  Thranduil closed his eyes, he felt his body stirred in protest while his own soul pulsate with weakness. The Elven-King knew this was dangerous and he had spent most of his energy trying to save and hold onto Thorin, he opened his eyes and could see the young life of the dwarf in front of him. For a brief moment, Thranduil couldn’t help but remember this was how Thorin had looked like on their first meeting. He remembered Thorin had been just as flirty and outspoken at this age, the King was so tempted to smile but…it was too late. For him, it was always too late.

“My Lord, let me help.” Tauriel whispered, her green eyes watching at her Lord with worry.

Thranduil shook his head before speaking, “You are not a healer, Tauriel. This could kill you. Let me do this.”

Tauriel glanced at Legolas then at Thranduil and finally at Kíli, she nodded briefly as Thranduil started working on the youngest Durin. His hand was already trembling, his mind was faltering but Thranduil forced himself to keep going. For a moment, he tampered in the young one’s feelings and he felt surprise to see the love this young dwarf felt, the absurdity of this love being directed to an elf didn’t scape Kíli, he simply didn’t care about history or differences in races or anything. Thranduil glanced the young features of the dwarf missing the innocence of youth; the King dug deeper in the young one’s soul his silver thread grasping the green one of Kíli.

“Father!” Legolas grabbed Thranduil before the Elven-King hit the frozen river, the young Prince turned to Feren who was glancing at them with concern on his face.

“Take them…” Thranduil shook his head straightened himself up, there was a thin layer of sweat on his face while he stood up on shaky legs. “Take them back to the camp and start making all preparations for a full healing process.”

The King spoke but Bilbo realized his voice didn’t hold the same amount of coldness or even of swift command in it. Feren nodded giving orders in elvish while everyone got ready to move the three dwarves back to the camp. Just in that moment Dwalin arrived with Balin and the other’s close behind him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dwalin stepped forward only to be stopped by Bilbo.

“What does it look like?” Bilbo replied glaring fiercely at Dwalin and the others.

“Nothing good, coming from an elf.” Gloin stated grabbing his weapon the same way Dwalin and the others were doing.

“He was saving Thorin, Fíli and Kíli.” Bilbo replied shaking his head. “Now, help us. We need to move them to a more secure and comfortable place.”

Dwalin was about to say something else but Balin stopped him, the dwarf turned to his brother and realized Balin was just as serious as Bilbo. Dwalin glared at Thranduil not really caring or even noticing how paled or how weak the King was looking at the moment.

Thranduil stood there holding onto his son while his blue eyes followed the elves and the dwarves moving the still unconscious Thorin and his nephews. The Elven-king knew his duty was not over, he knew there was still much to do before the dwarves were healed but he was exhausted and, before he could do or say anything, his world went black.


	2. The awakening of memories

**Chapter 2**

**The awakening of memories**

 

He opened his eyes shutting off the flow of memories and images of his wife.

The Elven-King stared into the darkness of his tent, realizing night had already fallen and he was back on his tent with nothing but a silky, red sheet covering his body and his pants still on him. Thranduil felt a single tear rolling down his cheek, his eyes staring at nothing while he tried to bury the memories and the nightmares he just experienced. He didn’t know how long he was unconscious, but it was enough for him to feel weak and vulnerable all over again; the elf straightened up sitting down while wincing slightly. His hair fell upon his features while his body tingled as he was made aware of the three other live forces joined to his.

The King winced when a throbbing pain attacked his head, his mind broke slightly only for him to see her again. Blond hair, grey eyes, beautiful smile, her voice was so vivid Thranduil could almost enjoyed the soft, velvety tone of her words just before the image of his wife turned into one of blood and dead. Thranduil clenched his jaw while shaking his head, his body tensing completely while the silver thread of his soul tightened around the three belonging to the dwarves; another wave of pain attack the King making Thranduil gasped and clenched his hands around the silky material of his bed, his head throbbing painfully just as the heat of his body rose in response to what the sons of the Line of Durín must be experiencing at the moment.

Thranduil scowled at himself for allowing this moment of weakness in him, he looked around finding his robe and his boots. With a swift determination he stood up and proceed to put them on ready to continue his duty while helping Thorin and his nephews.

“Father?” Legolas glanced at his father from the door of the tent, his face was a blank mask with his eyes dull and tired. Thranduil turned to face his son with his heart breaking at the sight, he knew there was a storm inside his son’s mind but Thranduil felt suddenly useless as to how to approach him.

It took him the coming of Thorin and company and a deathly battle for him to realize there was a great gap in between Legolas and himself. No longer was Legolas the little kid who would follow Thranduil wherever he went, or the one who would cling to his father’s robes asking endless questions. No longer was Legolas the young elf who sought advice or ask to be taught how to handle the arrow and the bow.

“How long I’ve been unconscious?” Thranduil finally asked looking away from those blue eyes that were a reflection of his own

“Five hours.” Legolas answered looking away while approaching the King.

“How are Thorin and his nephews?” Thranduil finally asked while placing his silver circlet around his head.

Legolas tensed turning around to face the King, his eyes narrowing slightly while he took in the expression on his father’s face.

“They are still unconscious, but alive.” Legolas couldn’t help the traces of reproach in his voice, just when he thought he might know his father he realized there were things about the King he would never see or know. “Sometimes, there seems to be pain in them. The dwarves are asking for you, they demand that you go over there and finish what you start. They still don’t trust you.”

Thranduil stiffened, his eyes meeting those of Legolas and the King understood the words his son hadn’t dare to speak. Legolas was feeling the same, his trust in his father was wavering and Thranduil could tell in the way Legolas seemed unsure of how to approach him. The Elven-Prince didn’t know how to feel. Should he be sad? Happy? Resigned? Angry? Legolas shook his head letting out a heavy sigh; he faced his father with unasked questions on his eyes, his lips quivering slightly only to simply step back.

“I can’t.” Legolas finally said and Thranduil felt his heart breaking and bleeding a little more.

“You could have saved her. She could be…you could have…you’re a healer, you save some dwarves when you could not reach for mother.” Legolas opened his eyes clenching his fist at the trembling on his words, he looked up to his father with unshed tears gleaming in his eyes.

It wasn’t until he decided to lock eyes with his father that Legolas realized he had gone too far. While his anger might be justified, his words had been harsh and he could tell he had hurt his father by the broken façade the King was now wearing.

His father was suffering. And Legolas regretted his words and behavior immediately wondering why they couldn’t have an honest talk with one another. Legolas knew his father had always suffered in silence because a King could never show his real emotions. A King showed no weakness, a King must be strong for his people even if he had to forgone his own emotions.

“I couldn’t.” Thranduil finally said trying to form the right words, even though he knew they did not exist. “I…”

Thranduil stopped talking while furrowing his brows, he could not speak and certainly he could not share his real feelings regarding the situation. He had never been capable of talking to Legolas about his mother, the words always seemed to tangle in his throat and his mind would go cloudy whenever he realized that Legolas had her smile, or the same fire to live and do impossible things. Legolas waited for a few moments but when it was evident nothing else could be say that day he dropped his head, his eyebrows furrowing in a helpless gesture.

The Elven-King stiffened gritting his teeth when he felt another painful sting on his body, his eyes gleamed blue, green and gold before he let out a heavy gasp. The moment between father and son was finally broken by this new interruption, something Thranduil thanked while turning around to grab his sword and fastening around his waist.

“My duty is not over yet, take me to Thorin and his nephews.” Thranduil said firmly his face showing his discomfort. “The healing is not over yet.”

“Are you going to be well?” Legolas asked once Thranduil had moved past him, the King stopped right at the opening of his tent, the cold air of the night embracing the elves.

“I already have my rest, I will be fine.” Thranduil finally said turning slightly to see Legolas facing him.

“I’m sorry.” Legolas finally whispered unsure as to why he was apologizing, the King offered his son the ghost of a smile the words stuck to his tongue before he shook his head tuning around.

“There is no time to lose, Legolas. I’m afraid Thorin and his nephews still need my help to survive the night.”

Legolas nodded walking side by side with his father guiding the Elven-King all through the campsite where men, Dwarrows and elves were resting or helping around. Many would shoot the Elven-King curious glances, some of the Dwarrows would stare with mistrust while some of the humans would shoot the King and his son lustful stares. The King was as regal as always, his pants were tightly wrapped around his legs alongside his light boots, his chest was uncovered while a light robe rest upon his shoulders and, even in this clothing, the King was just as menacing and cold as so far away as he could look to the mortal eyes of men and Dwarrows.

“Well, if this ain’t a sight to behold?” Dáin Ironfoot lifted an eyebrow eyeing Thranduil with a half-smirk on his face. “Lost something, faithless woodland sprite?”

Legolas scowled taking a step forward but stopping when his father lifted his hand, the Elven-king stared at Dáin for a moment before smirking.

“I did not. However, if you do not move you will lose not only a King but two Princes as well.” Thranduil felt his smirk grow when Dáin darkened his stare, his hand going immediately to his hammer.

“What’s going on?” Gandalf and Bilbo appeared from behind the tent the elves had provided for Thorin and his nephews. Gandalf looked from Dáin to Thranduil then back to Dáin who had his eyes firmly placed on Thranduil.

“Apparently, this elf Lord has threatened to end the Line of Durín. A wish, I believe, that has filled his dreamless nights.”

Thranduil opened his mouth to retort when Bilbo stood before them raising his arms, the small hobbit turned enraged eyes to Dáin before speaking.

“Stop it!  I’m tired of this useless fighting.” Bilbo said shaking his head. “He saved Thorin, Fíli and Kíli, it should be enough for you. I don’t care what he did in the past, what he think of all the dwarves in general, what I care for is that he saved my friends’ lives. That is all that matters.”

Dáin growled shaking his head before entering the tent, Bilbo sighed exasperatedly before turning to Thranduil.

“King Thranduil, I really don’t care, but I expected you won’t start fighting with all of them because they do have a point in not trusting you.” Bilbo then turned around and entered the tent as well, Gandalf held back his smile when his eyes fell upon the flabbergasted form of the elf King.

Legolas was just as confused, he was staring at the tent before turning his attention to his father who merely shook his head and proceeded to follow the dwarf and the hobbit.

Thranduil was not stranger to stares full of hatred, mistrust and animosity directed towards him. He was pretty familiar with his life being in danger of a physical or a verbal assault, he had forged himself as hard as steal and as cold as ice because of this very reason. If you couldn’t feel, then nothing could hurt you. It was a simple rule that had helped him all his life, it had taught him how to keep going without caring what others could say. The Elven-King took a few steps forward stopping just before he reached Thorin, the elf tensed feeling the overwhelming warm that was Thorin Oakenshield sneaking inside every nerve cord on his body. Thranduil set his eyes on Thorin for a moment before turning left and walking towards the blond dwarf; Fíli was sweating profusely, his wounds were hardly healing while the fever seemed to be consuming his body.

Oín eyed the elf with mistrust, he stayed close to Fíli while working on a bowl with warm water and some athelas in it. Thranduil lifted his eyes when the sweet aroma of the herbs reached his nostrils, he furrowed his brows slightly while his body relaxed under the familiar healing effect of the herbs.

“May I?” The King asked but even as he did this he couldn’t help the command behind his words, Oín scowled deeply grumbling slightly but passing the bowl to the King.

Thranduil was tempted to smile if only to mock the Dwarrows, but the words of the hobbit came back to him. The King submerged the hand in the bowl picking up some of the leaves and the flowers from the herbs working them until the felt like a mass on his hand. The Elven-King took a deep breath tampering on the golden thread inside his soul, for Thranduil it was easy to grasp it while his mouth opened to chant in elvish. The hand holding the herbs started working on the wounds while his free hand was pressing against the dwarf’s forehead comfortingly.

Fíli gasped shivering slightly, Dáin leaned forward threateningly but he stopped when Fíli grumbled. It was faint but his voice was there, his life was coming back to him just as his fever started lowering slightly. Oín looked closely at Fíli, his face softening when he realized there was only improvement from the young dwarf’s part; Oín lifted his eyes to see the Elven-King completely focused on Fíli, his eyes gleaming gold while still whispering in elvish.

While the King seemed to be paying attention to Fíli, Legolas had eyes only for Kíli and the sleeping form of Tauriel. He couldn’t deny the sight of Tauriel grasping the dwarf’s hand in hers while sleeping with her head on the bed as close to him as she could hurt him immensely. Whatever hoped Legolas had harbored of building a relationship with Tauriel had disappeared the moment he discovered Tauriel speaking with their prisoner. It hadn’t been the first time he caught her speaking with Kíli while the dwarves were prisoners of the Woodland Realm, but it had been the first time he had seen Tauriel smiled the way she did. Legolas looked away when his father approached the red-head and the young dwarf, Thranduil placed his hand on top of Tauriel’s head and Legolas knew his father had already forgiven Tauriel for her transgressions. Or, at least, he understood. With his father Legolas was never sure.

“My King…” Tauriel started trying to incorporate but stopping when Kíli moaned his grip on her hand tightening.

“He is a fighter.” Thranduil finally said, his voice breaking the silence in the room. Thranduil bit the inside of his cheek before he could complete his thought. He could never say out loud how much Kíli remained him of Thorin, Thranduil could never admit a part of him had always admire the vitality in Thorin, his kind nature as well as his reckless behavior.

No one could ever know at one point Thranduil had admired the youth in Thorin Oakenshield.

The Elven-King placed his hand on top of Kíli’s forehead, he started chanting just as his eyes gleamed green. Oín, who had followed him, furrowed his brows noticing this change, his hands falling to the young dwarf who was whispering softly. From time to time the name of Tauriel would escape his lips and the she-elf would smile shyly.

“You did a fine work with him, Tauriel.” Thranduil finally said. “There is not much I can do for him now, it all comes back to his will to live.”

“What about Thorin?” Bilbo asked approaching the King while glancing at Thorin who was looking paler, his face covered with a thin sheet of sweat.

“Just like the blond one, Thorin Oakenshield is not yet out of danger.”

“Fíli.” Dwalin said firmly. “His name is Fíli.”

Thranduil turned his icy eyes to Dwalin, his lips curling mockingly as if he really did not care for the name of the dwarf.

“Fíli and Thorin Oakenshield are holding onto their lives but it is up to them if they want to continue or not.” Thranduil continued. “I can keep them alive as much as my own energy allows it but the rest is up to them.”

“Can you try the same procedure you did with Fíli to Thorin?” Oín finally asked. “I’m afraid I haven’t been able to lower Thorin’s fever.”

Thranduil felt the weight of the request in his mind, he shifted his weight to better face the healer while his eyes went directly to the unconscious form of Thorin. The moment was complement by a sudden warm filling up the elf’s limbs, Thranduil could tell everyone’s attention was on him with all of them wondering what he would do. Saving the young lives of two Dwarrows was different than saving the life of the dwarf who had already expressed his hatred for him. But everyone, especially Thorin’s companions, seemed to forget Thranduil had already saved Thorin’s life and if he so want to, all he had to do was to let go of Thorin’s blue thread for the dwarf to die.

“I cannot.” Thranduil finally answered and there was an uproar in which every single one of Thorin’s companions started arguing and insulting the Elven-King.

Thranduil was not impressed, his eyes went from one dwarf to the other while all of them seemed ready to do unspeakable things to the elf. Bilbo merely rolled his eyes waiting for either the elf to speak or for the others to shut up and let the elf speak. When Bilbo turned to the King he noticed Thranduil was trying to hide his exasperation not really caring for the insults or the dead threats. Instead of this, the elf turned to Oín who pursed his lips eyeing the King with his fists clenched but without having utter a single word.

The Elven-King felt tempted to offer an explanation, he knew if he were to tell Oín he could not treat Thorin the way he did Fíli simply because he didn’t know the reason behind the dwarf’s fever Oín would understand. Apparently, he was the only one intelligent enough to understand this. But Thranduil wasn’t accustomed to offer explanations for his actions, and he wasn’t about to start doing so.

When Thranduil approached Thorin the voices from outside were effectively shut, his connection with the dwarf was different to the one he had stablished with the youngest ones. Thranduil felt Thorin deep inside his soul, the silver thread signifying his life seemed pretty much entangled with the blue one signifying Thorin’s one. The King hadn’t even wonder about this connection, his reasoning behind his healing abilities had not reached the deep understanding that, what he was doing was already affecting him and the dwarves.

Thorin Oakenshield was frowning.

The scowl on his face seemed attached to him by circumstances, the harsh living in the wild and the suffering he endured to make sure his people was always well and provided for. How alike were they and yet how different the circumstances that forge them? Thranduil let his hand rest on the dwarf’s forehead, he felt the suffering and the pain the fever was coming from the nightmares Thorin must be suffering instead of the wounds inflicted to him in battle. If he so wanted it, Thranduil could stop the flow of thoughts and memories filling the dwarf’s mind; Thranduil could intrude in Thorin’s mind and play around with his thoughts and feelings. But, regardless of what everyone thought of him, Thranduil could never intrude in the mind of another without consent.

“His fever is not due to his wounds.” Thranduil finally said, blinking slightly when he realized the screaming mayhem was still happening outside his own personal world.

The Elven-King straightened up, the light robe on his shoulders moving aside to reveal the smooth skin of his chest and the hardened torso of a warrior, his hand was gleaming slightly as much as his eyes. Everyone seemed to fall silent when the King directed a heated glare to the room.

“Is there a reason why all of you seem pretty intend on disturbing your wounded leader and his nephews?” Thranduil asked with his voice barely raised, his tone was soft but dangerous accompanied by a cold stare.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, Dwalin scowled deeply not taking kindly to the scolding done by the elf. The same elf that had turned his back on them all those years ago, Dwalin opened his mouth to speak but Dáin stepped forward nodding towards Thranduil.

“What is it to you?” Dáin demanded eyeing the elf with curiosity. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Thranduil answered wishing he had waited for a considerable time before responding so hastily.

Dáin furrowed his brows narrowing his eyes, “I’m not saying you’re right, but I do think Thorin and Fíli and Kíli need rest. Let’s clear this place up.”

The sudden change in the dwarf caught every person in the tent by surprised, Dwalin opened his mouth again ready to protest but Balin stopped him before he could do anything. Everyone hesitated, their eyes went from Thorin, to Fíli and Kíli, to Thranduil and finally to Dáin. The tension in the tent was palpable and the questions were still in everyone’s mind, everyone was still wondering what the hell had happened to the eternal enmity between Dwarrows and Elves.

“I wouldn’t say no to something to eat.” Bilbo broke the silence easily looking around before settling his eyes on Gandalf. “I mean, we haven’t eaten yet and there is so much a hobbit can do with an empty stomach.”

“I agreed with Bilbo.” Bombur chimed in, Bofur rolled his eyes shaking his eyes.

“Of course you do, you’re always hungry.”

“But, you know? I’m kinda hungry as well, I don’t think we have eaten since last night.” Dori contributed, everyone seemed to realize this was the true and soon, with some reluctance everyone started leaving the tent.

Dwalin set his eyes on the Elven-King, the elf stared back with a frozen stare and a blank expression. Balin stepped forward approaching the King while positioning himself beside Thorin, he lifted his eyes to stare at the elf with a half-smile.

“I hope you don’t mind us staying behind.” Balin finally said, Dwalin grumbled crossing his arms. Dáin snorted sitting down while putting his pipe out of his pocket.

“By all means, I wasn’t harboring the thought of any of you leaving me alone with Thorin and his nephews.” Thranduil replied giving Balin a half-smile.

“I’m glad we understand each other, King Thranduil.” Balin nodded gracefully before sitting down watching as Thranduil continued his duty.

Oín shook his head putting some of the herbs and the clean cloths while uncovering Thorin, the dwarf had his torso completely exposed with a nasty wound right in the middle of his chest. Thranduil couldn’t help his wandering eyes satiating his curiosity of what was hiding the armor covering the stoic body of the Dwarf-Prince. Tanned skin covered with hair and battle scars, muscles shaped by battle and the hard work of the forges, Thranduil was the witness of the hard build of the dwarves, their future King was just as strong and resistant as a mountain. Then, the blue eyes of the elf went to the wound, the skin still open showing the pouring blood and the muscles under it. The healing process was slow but efficient, Oín was a healer with ability but even the dwarf could sense Thorin had stopped bleeding profusely thanks to the quick action of the Elven-King.

The sweet aroma of athelas and geranium mixed with some ointment and warm water, Oín fixed the curative preparation, tilting his head to see the wandering eyes of the elf. There was something bothering the healer, he was completely sure as to what it was exactly but he knew there was more to this elven magic that either the King or the red-head Captain were willing to share. However, of something Oín was certain, Thorin, Fíli and Kíli only improve whenever the elf was near; Oín hesitated, his hands twitching for a moment before h out the bowl on the bed clearing his throat he caught the King’s attention blinking a couple of times when he realized the elf was looking strangely at him.

“Would you mind helping me out, King Thranduil?” Oín said pointing at the bowl. “You have a great healing hand, I’m starting to think it could be better for Thorin if you do so.”

Thranduil looked taken aback, he tilted his head narrowing his eyes in mistrust at this. The elf turned his eyes to the bowl then back to Thorin.

“Of course.” Thranduil finally said surprising Dwalin and Dáin, Legolas was standing in the shadows following his father’s actions just as he was trying to ignore the painful stab in his heart whenever Tauriel caressed the young dwarf’s face.

The silence was deafening, the ointment was warm on his hands while the sweet aroma of the herbs filled his nostrils bringing relaxation to his body. Thranduil pour some of the ointment on his right hand, with curiosity he touched creamy texture of the salve feeling it around before placing his fingertips around the wound. He almost stopped his actions when Thorin hissed whispering something unintelligible, but Thranduil had lived long enough to contain himself, instead he covered his sudden surprised making his fingers danced around the wound. He could tell whatever he had done to keep alive Thorin was helping the dwarf heal, he spread the ointment around the wound his brows furrowing wondering just how closed to death Thorin had been. 

It happened without a warning.

Thranduil had been wondering just how deep the wound was, watching the damage Azog had done in his attempted to end the Line of Durín. The question he had tried to evade ever since he intervened with fate came back to him and the answer was just as elusive and tempting as it had been the very first time. Then, as he located the life force of Thorin a wave of emotions invade the Elven-King, the heavy barriers protecting his mind were shattered in a moment of weakness and myriad of images invade his mind in a flash of blue and silver light. Thranduil stepped back with his face marked by conflicting emotions, he opened his eyes startled while his hand was left hovering with blood and healing ointment on his fingers; the elf stared at Thorin for a moment then, without a warning he turned around and left.

“What the hell was that?” Dáin asked approaching Thorin before turning to stare at the exit where Thranduil had just left.

Tauriel furrowed her brows, her hold on Kíli tightened while she turned to see Legolas with the same flabbergasted expression as her. The Elven-Prince turned to Tauriel and then he too left the tent decided to follow his father and demand for some explanations.

*****

Legolas felt frustrate when he was incapable of finding his father.

Night had already fallen and the cold of winter was consuming the few mortals wandering around seeking out refugee in the different campfires around the campsite. The Elven-Prince stood before Erebor, the darkness protected him from prying eyes allowing a moment of weakness and a linger crack on his stoic façade. What he had seen he knew none of the dwarves had witness, the fact Tauriel stared back at him was enough to confirm to him the flash of blue and light did happen and the shaking of his father’s fëa had been strong enough to alert him and Tauriel something had happened.

Legolas tensed tilting his head to see who was approaching, it didn’t take him long to see the striking form of Tauriel. The former Captain of the guard was looking tired but there was a strange gleam in her eyes, her features seemed relax and more open that they had been before this mess.

“What is it?”

“Did you find him?” Tauriel asked smiling gently at Legolas, the Prince shook his head looking away.

“No, I can’t find him and I’m afraid I won’t be capable of doing so unless he wants to be found.” Legolas hated how easy was for his father to run away and hide. He hated how the King would either face everything with his cold and unfaltering presence or how he would turn around and hide.

Tauriel stood beside her friend and Prince, she tilted her head frowning lightly, “You felt it too, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“What do you think it was?” Tauriel finally asked before adding, “I didn’t know your father was a healer.”

“Me neither.” Legolas replied bitterly. “How strange it is when the world remind us that even if we don’t change much Arda doesn’t stop for us.”

“Legolas…”

“Our world change overnight ever since these dwarves crossed the borders of Mirkwood.” Legolas clenched his fists looking away from Tauriel. “I don’t know what to think of this except sorrow has been the only result this changes have brought to me.”

Tauriel lowered her gaze her left hand grabbing her right wrist, she wished things had been different between them. Legolas was right ever since Thorin and company had crossed the borders of Mirkwood the elven world had changed, they had been faced with a world they had opted to ignore until the pressure was too much and they were faced with reality. There was so much Thranduil and Legolas could do to hide away, but eventually the world and the happenings in it would find them.

“Did you come for another reason?” Legolas finally asked turning to Tauriel, the she-elf nodded briefly.

“Thorin Oakenshield has just woken up.” Tauriel revealed. “And, Fíli and Kíli did so as well.”

Legolas nodded briefly, he tried to smile to his friend, “I’m glad he woke up.”

Tauriel smiled softly, her heart tingling slightly, “Thank you.”

Silence fell between them, Tauriel approached Legolas placing her hand on the blond’s forearm.

“Come with me, Thorin Oakenshield is asking for you.” Tauriel explained glancing gently at Legolas, the elf furrowed his brows in confusion.

“For me? Whatever for?”

“Actually, he was asking for you and King Thranduil.” Tauriel replied. “His intentions…are not clear to me. But, I believe you should go and see him."

Legolas glanced at Tauriel for a moment before giving in, the Prince started following the red-head while wondering where his father was and why he had disappear so suddenly. The Elven-Prince felt a nagging pressure in his mind, as if he should be attentive of something or perhaps as if he should know something; this wasn't clear to him until he entered the tent and found himself in front of Thorin Oakenshield.

Legolas stiffened completely his eyes finding those of the dwarf finding out the silver threats he had seen early in the afternoon coming from his father's own hands. However, this silver glint seemed to decorate the dark eyes of the dwarf, a special feature only visible to the elf who came in slowly his mind demanding answers when he realized this same attribute was present in Fíli and Kíli's eyes. Legolas felt a hand squeezing gently his forearm, when he turned around he saw Tauriel looking just as concern as him.

"Don't say anything because, I'm afraid, we're the only ones that can see these changes." Tauriel whispered for Legolas to hear her, at that moment Legolas realized he needed answers and the only capable of giving them to him was hiding at the moment.

 

 


	3. Pay over the odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because the price Thranduil paid was far greater than what Thorin thought possible, also because Thorin would pay more if only to finally reach peace and happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, so some explanations before reading the chapter, the parts in Italics are meant to be memories Thranduil shares unconsciously and involuntary with Thorin.

**Chapter 3**

**Pay over the odds**

 

He sat on the chair inside the improvised tent; his chin was resting on the palm of his hand while his eyes seemed to be staring at some spot on the ground. His mind, however, was drifting away from the world wandering into the past while his heart seemed afraid of the present.

Morning had arrived with an excited buzzing coming from the inhabitants of the Valley right before Erebor. Many of them were recovering warriors, some others were humans and elves helping around in the improvised camp; his shoulders leaned back while his back tense completely when the door of the tent opened and a tall figure came in.

“Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews are awake.” The man was sounding tired, he cleaned up his worn out jacket stepping closer to the chair where Thranduil was sitting.

The Elven-King shifted his stare and his blue eyes soon found those of Bard, for a moment the man could swear he saw sorrow and fear behind those ageless eyes. But, as soon as he had noticed this the elf became a mask of pure blankness.

“Is there a reason why should I care about this news, Bowman?” Thranduil drawled breaking the eye contact he had with the man.

Bard hesitated for a moment, he didn’t consider himself a man of great name or position thus facing a King like Thranduil was something he needed to do with diplomacy. The man stepped forward before taking the chair right across the elf, he pursed his lips taking in the regal form of the King.

“You have come to me in the middle of the night looking for shelter.” Bard pronounced every word with care, he tried to keep his eyes on Thranduil suddenly being remained of those conversations he held with his children when they were in trouble.

“I have giving it to you because last night…”

“Last night never happened.” Thranduil declared in an icy tone and Bard was forced to lift his hands in a soothing way, he knew right away mentioning the incident the night before was a mistake. For Bard it was evident the Elven-King had never broke down in front of anyone and last night had been an accident, something Bard was not meant to see.

“My King Thranduil, I’m just trying to understand.” Bard replied furrowing his brows slightly.

“Then, understand this Bowman: Last night never happen and I could care less about the fate of Thorin or his nephews.”

“Then, why save them?” Bard inquired before he could stop himself.

The question caught Thranduil off of guard; the Elven-King lifted his chin in defiance though his eyes gleamed with uncertainty. Bard waited for a moment looking around his tent, Thranduil clenched his fists hating his own weakness and the fact this human had seen it. Still, Thranduil knew he owe an explanation, if anything to stop Bard from spreading the events of the night before. He eyed the man wondering if gold would be enough to buy his silence, bitterness filled the Elven-King’s mind making him clenched his eyes shut to contain his erratic emotions.

“I owed Thorin.” Thranduil finally said. “The very first time Smaug came I didn’t hear the clamors of his people.”

Bard narrowed his eyes in disbelief, the tears he had seen the night before had not been the tears of someone who owe such a life-debt. Yet when he faced the elf he realized this was all he was going to get, whether it was the complete truth or a lie he wouldn’t know. Thranduil cocked his head with his lips drawing a half-smirk, Bard realized the King had noticed his doubt and he looked away flustered at his own impertinence.

“Ask away, then, if your curiosity is far greater than your manners.” Thranduil said calmly.

Bard was tempted to glare at the elf but a little voice in his head told him it would not be wise to test the patience of the King. However, he did face Thranduil with a question on his tongue already.

“Are you all right?” The question caught Bard and Thranduil by surprised, the Elven-King quirked a brow in amusement when Bard seemed to ask with decision in his voice.

“Is it my physical well-being what you’re asking for? Or, is it my mental one? Perhaps you are referring to my heart? My Soul?” Thranduil seemed rather amused by the question though his mind was already working around the answer.

Bard swallowed shrugging, “All of them. I’m still quite surprise you came to me last night when your son and the rest of the elven delegation was looking for you, King Thranduil. I’m wondering if you really are doing well and…well, why come to me?”

Thranduil changed his position on the chair, he crossed his legs placing his hands on the armchairs lifting his face with his blue eyes pinning the human to his spot. For a brief moment, Bard felt the power behind the King and he shivered in fear and knowledge this elf could do whatever he wanted with him and Dale. Thranduil leaned back leaning his head to the side, his lips parted and soon the elf found himself speaking truthfully with a hint of surprised at his own openness with this human.

“I do not think anyone else would have given me asylum without telling my son or my guards.” Thranduil then looked away and his voice sounded distant. “I was…I was in need of a friend, even if I did not seek it in the more common way.”

“A friend?” Bard blinked owlish watching as Thranduil merely nodded.

“Someone who may understand the pain of losing a wife.” Thranduil finished with a hint of sadness in his voice.

The conversation itself had taken a path Bard wasn’t following completely, his gaze focused on the elf sitting in front of him while the sound coming from outside filled the tent.

“She was beautiful.” Bard said suddenly. “Her last words…they were for Tilda, she…she died giving birth to our last daughter.”

Bard wasn’t sure as to why he was sharing this piece of information, it was something he hadn’t even shared with his children. Thranduil acknowledged this with a movement of his head, the Elven-King looked at his hands while his unmarked face furrowed in concentration.

“Do you miss her?” Thranduil inquired facing Bard with an unreadable expression.

“Every day.” Bard answered truthfully, then in a bold gesture he asked, “Do you?”

Thranduil swallowed down his emotions, the memories of the day before invaded his mind all over again. He stared at his hands and saw the silver thread there mingled with his soul, Thranduil remembered the visions brought by his attempt of curing Thorin and the raw emotions of love and longing he felt. He was reminded of the face of his wife and how…how difficult had been to focus on her and not on the face of the dwarf, how he had almost forgotten her smile.

“Every day and night.” Thranduil answered with a sharp pain in his heart, he lifted his stare only to see Bard giving him a sympathetic stare. This only made him feel worse because even if he could trick the human sitting in front of him, he couldn’t trick himself. And the truth was he was forgetting her and the guilt of this fact was crushing his soul.

“Last night, when I was taking care of Thorin I was reminded of her.” Thranduil continued shaking his head. “I couldn’t face my son with the memory of his mother’s dead fresh in my mind.”

Bard opened his eyes in understanding and soon he felt a sympathetic tug in his heart. The man sighed looking around the tent before settling his eyes back on Thranduil, for a moment the conversation between the two of them died and Thranduil found himself musing over his stormy thoughts until he realized his duty wasn’t over. Thranduil glanced back at his hands watching as the blue in Thorin’s threat gleamed brightly warming up the silver thread of Thranduil.

“Are they all right? Thorin and his nephews?” Thranduil inquired lifting his head to face Bard.

“They seemed fine, though their wounds are still fresh and bleeding. I believe it is Thorin the one who needs more time to recover.” Bard inclined his head glancing casually at the elf. “Are you going to see them? They may need of you and your healing abilities.”

Thranduil gave a bitter smile and his eyes lose any sign of life for a moment, the King stood up nodding curtly.

“Yes, I believe it is time for me to stop running away from my duties.”

Thranduil walked out of the tent and Bard found himself thinking there was more to the unexpected visit and the incredible honesty from Thranduil’s part. The man shook his head wondering if he should inquired more about the topic or let Thranduil come to him again; Bard massaged the bridge of his nose missing those days in which his only trouble was the slimy Alfrid and the greedy Master.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The morning sky slid over their heads with grey and white as the only source of clear light.

The air around there smell like dead and desperation, the souls of the mortals in the battlefield felt heavy with trepidation and doubt while they all continued with piling up the dead and burning the bodies of their enemies. Legolas watched as his father came to him, the Elven-King came out of nowhere with the same clothes he had put on himself the day before and his face crafted with indifference.

“I went looking for you yesterday.” Legolas tried to keep his reproachful tone at a minimum but it was almost impossible for him to do it.

Thranduil stopped his footsteps looking around the camp before settling his eyes on his son. The sounds of conversations grew in between the silence they were sharing, Legolas observed his father with care trying to read the King but he found himself stopped by a cold wall surrounding the elf. Thranduil stepped forward placing his hand on his son’s shoulder, the contact felt warm and comforting and Legolas hated how easy was for him to fall into the gesture of affection.

“I need some time alone.” Thranduil answered in a low voice, his words only meant for Legolas.

“Have you resolved your troubles, Ada?” Legolas cocked his head to the side, Thranduil nodded curtly though his eyes lack any conviction.

“Is he awake?” Legolas didn’t need to ask who his father was referring too, Legolas remembered the conversation he held with Thorin the night before, the young Prince remembered what his Eldar eyes had seen on the Dwarrows and the question hang above them without Legolas daring to inquire out loud about it.

“No, he is asleep.” Legolas creased his brows when he sensed the relief coming from his father, before he could say or ask anything else Thranduil stepped forward and disappeared behind the tent’s door.

Thranduil felt the weight of the many stares inside the tent on him, his first instinct was to sneer at them, to show them who was the superior being in the midst of the decaying bodies of mortality. He didn’t, though. His blue eyes went from the hobbit who was shooting him strange stares to Thorin’s company and then to Tauriel; the she-elf squeezed the hand holding hers before standing up and bowing to her King. Thranduil pursed his lips making his way towards her, the Elven-King all but ignored the others as he settled behind the red-head tilting his head to settle his eyes on the youngest heir of Durin.

Kíli narrowed his eyes at him disentangling his hand from Tauriel’s one, the young dwarf lifted his chin in defiance and Thranduil was tempted to smile. He was looking so much better now, his face was recovering the color of the living though he was still looking exhausted. Thranduil lifted his face to see the rest of the room had their eyes on him still. Dáin stepped forward sneering at the Elven-King.

“So, you decided to come back again, eh fairy sprout?”

Thranduil quirked a brow at the dwarf, “I never left.”

“That’s not what I heard. I heard you left in a hurry, scare, perhaps?” Dáin commented smirking. “Or maybe, you finally realized you were going to pay for your treason against my kin?”

Thranduil shot a cold glare at Dáin, his lips quirking upwards in a half-smirk, “For me to pay a misgiving, it is necessary to have done one first. I have never considered my actions wrong, but necessary.”

“Leaving my people to perish under the fires of the worm was necessary?” Dáin growled out.

The room was turning their attention from Dáin to Thranduil, Fíli frowned feeling bothered by the conversation. Kíli from his part was glaring at Thranduil with his mind trying to comprehend why the elf had saved them. Thranduil straightened up looking around the room before settling his piercing eyes on Dáin.

“They are not your people, Dáin Ironfoot, they are Thorin’s people and my actions were the actions of a King, not of a commoner who allows his heart to command his decisions.” At those words there was no doubt in the minds of the Dwarrows or the hobbit Thranduil was speaking as a King, his tone was firm and commanding just as his body language dismissed Dáin by turning his back to him.

Dáin growled ready to say something when he felt a hand closing around his biceps, he turned sharply to the source only to find a fierce Hobbit glaring at him. For some unknown reason, Dáin bit down his tongue and resigned himself to just glare at the elf.

“What are you doing?” Kíli pressed closer to his bed when his eyes caught the approaching hand of the Elven-King, Thranduil arched his brows unimpressed leaning closer until his hand was hovering above the young dwarf’s face.

“I’m making sure my efforts were not in vain and you won’t fall into another unconscious state.” Thranduil replied locking his blue eyes with those dark ones of the dwarf.

Kíli frowned still glaring at the elf, “Why?”

Thranduil opened his mouth to reply when he saw it, it was something he hadn’t noticed the first time he entered the tent but that now was evident in the dark irises of the dwarf. He swallowed watching the silver threat of his life entangling with the green one of Kíli, the eyes of the dwarf gleamed with the life force and Thranduil knew no one but him and Tauriel were aware of this. Thranduil stepped back turning his head to see Tauriel was looking at him with questions behind her green eyes, the Elven-King returned his attention to Kíli mumbling something inn elvish before stepping back.

“You have done a good job taking care of him.” He said still glancing at Kíli though his words were meant for Tauriel. Kíli shifted his stare with his face changing into a more warm and opened façade when he stared at the red-head elf.

“It was you who saved his life, my Lord. I only…” Tauriel trailed off with her cheeks coloring red, her lips curling slightly when she looked over at Kíli. “I only cared for his wounds.”

Thranduil stepped back unable to tear his eyes away from Kíli, the life was returning to his young body but there was something else changing in him. Kíli then shifted in the bed sitting up, though his serious expression didn’t change when he turned his attention to the King there was a gentleness behind his eyes directed to the Elven-King. Something inside Thranduil fluttered in remembrance of a pair of young eyes looking at him this way before Smaug had broken into the peace that was Erebor, there was much of Thorin in his nephews and Thranduil didn’t know if this was a good or a bad thing.

“Then, I guess if you save our lives I should thank you.” Kíli recognized grudgingly. “Not that it would make us forget what happened in the forest or when Smaug first came in, though.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.” Thranduil replied making his way to where Fíli had remained strangely quiet.

Fíli followed with his eyes the form of the Elven-King, he paid special attention to the way the elf’s eyes seemed to gleam with an ethereal light of their own. Fíli furrowed his brows when he observed some hesitation from the elf’s part, those blue eyes seemed to flicker slightly form Fili’s ones to the rest of his body. The blond elf glanced down at his body watching the many wounds on it, he could see the healing flesh around his abdomen where Azog had tried to take his life away, or the different scratches he had acquired while falling from the hill. The dwarf followed the elf’s movements when those hands went to his broken arm and leg, he pursed his lips stopping his questions from being uttered with so many people filling the tent; whatever he wanted to ask to the elf in front of him a voice was telling him it would be better to do so when they were alone.

“Your wounds seem to be healing just fine, I see the healer in your group has done a good job.”

“You don’t need to sound so surprise.” Oín came in scowling at the King. “I know my crafts just as good as everyone in this room.”

“Indeed.” Thranduil conceded. “Then allow me to expand your knowledge.”

Oín narrowed his eyes at the elf though his face betrayed the eagerness of learning something from the King, Fíli quirked a brow just as his brother seemed to gasp in surprise.

“Why would you do that?” Fíli spoke for the first time and his voice was still sounding weak and far away.

“Why not?” Thranduil replied cleaning up his hands in a bowl filled with clean water.

Fíli turned his head to look at his brother who merely shrugged, the blond dwarf then turned his attention to his uncle who was sleeping still. Thranduil followed the gaze of the young dwarf and his heart stung with something akin to longing. The Elven-King shook his head returning his attention to Fíli.

“I never thought elves would share their secrets of healing.” Fíli then commented when Thranduil started working around his still fresh wounds.

The King pressed his lips together, his fingertip outlining the wound meant to kill Fíli.

“This is an art I cannot share. I am merely going to show your healer how we treat the wounds that have already been healed in other ways.” Thranduil then reached for a bowl filled with a strange ointment, the same ointment he had used the very first time to clean and treat the wounds on the dwarves.

“I don’t understand.”

“You are not mean to.” Thranduil felt slightly confused as to why Fíli kept on trying to maintain a conversation with him. Ever since he entered the tent everyone seemed to bit their tongues as to not address the elf and prevent a certain fight. Fíli, however, seemed to not held malice in his words, much like Kíli he seemed curious though alert.

Thranduil picked a good amount of ointment in his hand, Fíli breathed deeply closing his eyes in relief at the sweet aroma coming from the mixture. His eyes opened to watch as Thranduil applied some around the wound his lips moving slightly while he whispered some words in a language Fíli couldn’t understand.

“Why is it glowing?” The question caught Thranduil off guard, the elf hesitated glancing at Fíli then at Kíli and Tauriel before setting his eyes back on Fíli.

“Excuse me?” Thranduil narrowed his eyes at Fíli who nodded towards the hand Thranduil still had on his wounds.

“Your hand, why is it glowing?”

“It’s not glowing, Fíli.” Balin said though he approached the bed shooting a suspicious stare to the elf.

Fíli frowned looking back at Kíli then at Thranduil, “Then, I think I need more sleep because everything is glowing.”

“You're an idiot.” Kíli said trying to sound teasing though the dwarf’s eyes were completely focused on Thranduil’s hand. “You should probably rest like uncle.”

“Nah, I think what I need is food.” Fíli commented turning his attention to Balin. “Do you think I could have something to eat?”

Balin stood there for a moment, the dwarf glanced at the hand of the Elven-king still working on the wounds then back at Fíli who was smiling sheepishly at him. Balin turned to his brother who nodded sharply, Bombur and Bofur followed Dwalin out of the tent while the rest of the company stayed behind.

Thranduil finished applying the ointment glancing at Fíli, “How does it feel now?”

Fíli turned his eyes to the elf and he knew right there and then he had said and noticed something he shouldn’t. The gleaming hand had disappeared though the eyes of the elf were still sparkling with a light of their own, Fíli wondered why and how he was capable of noticing this but he knew answers would not come. Not with so many people in the tent, the dwarf nodded slowly trying to lift his good hand.

“I feel better, this ointment works in strange ways bringing relief to my body and my mind.” Fíli hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I think we should be grateful then that the great Elven-King knows the arts of the healers.”

Thranduil didn’t know how to take the comment, he glanced at Fíli for a long moment before turning his attention to Oín.

“There is nothing to be grateful for.” Thranduil replied before passing the ointment to Oín. “You just have to apply some more to all the open wounds, slowly without touching the expose flesh. It will heal slowly, but you have to make sure it doesn’t smell bad or that the blood has stopped.”

“I think I can do that, anything else I should know?” Oín asked.

“I will show you how to make another mixture, more effective for the wounds young Fíli has on him.” Thranduil then turned around ready to leave when Kíli spoke to him.

“Hey! Wait a moment, what about uncle?” Kíli incorporated even more pointing at his uncle while pinning Thranduil with his stare.

Thranduil stopped dead on his tracks looking emotionless to the rest of the room, when he turned around though Fíli and Kíli could see the conflict in those blue eyes. The brothers glanced at one another without understanding what was happening, they returned their attention to the Elven-King who was dreading the question.

“He is asleep, I should come when he has woken up I do not think he appreciates me attending to his wounds while in this state.” Thranduil relied trying to sound rational and, though his words seemed to be aggregable for the rest of the dwarves Fíli and Kíli both scowled deeply.

“No, attend to his wounds, King Thranduil.” Fíli said firmly. “I will appreciate it if you do so right now, I can deal with uncle later.”

“Yes, that’s right, we can deal with his grumpy side later.” Kíli nodded tilting his head. “His wounds are just as bad as Fíli’s ones, they were bleeding last night and this morning he was complaining about his nightmares and headache and…”

“Kíli!” Balin scolded at the young dwarf who closed his mouth shut.

Thranduil couldn’t help but returned to the bed in which Thorin was resting right beside Fíli, the Elven-King tore his eyes away from the young Dwarrows to glance at the sleeping form of Thorin. The dwarf was resting peacefully on the bed without any signs of suffering in his face, so much different at what Thranduil had observed the day before and the days before now. The Elven-King dared to look down to the exposed chest of the dwarf and his eyes fell upon the marks of the sword so near Thorin’s heart. For a brief moment, Thranduil remembered what he felt the day before, he remembered the face of his wife changing to the bleeding features of Thorin. Thranduil remembered the feeling of Thorin’s soul wrapping around his own soul and the fear and hurt Thranduil felt when he seemed capable of saving the life of his enemy and not his wife. Though, was Thorin really his enemy?

The silence inside the tent was deafening, Bilbo approached the bed in which Thorin was resting so peacefully while turning his eyes from the dwarf to the elf. The hobbit saw the conflicted in the beautiful face of the elf, his eyes had broken away the icy wall and were now showing emotions Bilbo could not associate with the unbreakable Elven-King. Thranduil tensed sensing someone watching him closely, when he tilted his head he found himself looking at Bilbo and he knew the hobbit had seen what he was not meant to.

“I will need more of the ointment from my people.” Thranduil commented wishing this could be enough for him to sneak out of the tent, Tauriel came forward innocently handing him a small wooden jar filled with the elven medicine.

“My Lord.” Tauriel tried to smile to her King but she was still unsure of her status before him.

Thranduil grabbed the jar wondering if the Valar were playing some kind of sick game with him, the King bowed his head in gratefulness before turning his attention back to Thorin.  The room melted away before him and the only thing that exist was the dwarf lying on the bed before him, the sounds disappeared slowly while his hand caught some of the medicine. The aroma of summer filled his nostrils making him think of the bright sun above his head and the freshness of a bath on his skin, Thranduil directed his blue eyes to the pierced skin of the dwarf and he couldn’t help but admired the strong chest and the firm arms of Thorin. It was evident the dwarf had never stopped cultivating the arts of war while at the same time he worked harshly through circumstances. Thranduil swallowed his conflictive emotions when his fingertips, smooth and gentle, brushed against the hardened flesh of Thorin; the first contact felt forbidden and Thranduil had to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop any exclamation from leaving his mouth. He tried to focus his attention on the cleaning of the wound, his mind putting words of health and recovery in his mouth. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, Thranduil was afraid, he was scare of what he could find if he were to reach for the dwarf’s soul the way he had done so the day before, he was afraid of what he could find if he were to dig deeper in order to safe Thorin’s life.

Just like the day before, he found himself incapable of stopping the memories.

_Soft laughter, beautiful eyes and entrancing touches. She was beauty incarnated, holding a small elfling in her arms, the promise of the future on her lips._

Thranduil shivered under the memory of his wife, his hand faltered for a second but he continued with his task lifting his eyes to see Thorin furrowing his brows.

_Proud stance, stormy eyes with an arrogant smirk. Thorin Oakenshield stood before him with the bearing of his people, his actions trying to mimic those of his father and grandfather but Thranduil could see the gentleness in the soul of the Dwarven-Prince. The Elven-King was shocked to discover such nobility and sensitivity in one of the Naugrim, he was soon entranced with the Prince in front of him, curiosity and wonderment filling his mind._

The Elven-King allowed his fingertips worked around the still open wound, there was no more blood around it but he could see the red flesh of the dwarf. The ointment seemed to bring in some relief for Thorin opened his mouth to take a deep breath of relief. Thranduil furrowed his brows opening his mouth to whisper the words of the healers, his hand gleaming with a silver and blue light.

_She stepped forward parrying another blade, her feet spun around with her hair flying around. The sounds of war were choking the clamors of help from her allies. She smirked when her back came into contact with the back of her husband, Thranduil smirked as well with his sword whispering with the blood of his enemies. The tragedy came in a second, a dragon…fire…and soon he was pushed aside and she was on the ground bleeding._

_“Legolas, my sweet little elfling…tell him I love him, would you?” Thranduil choked on his tears, his body hurting in unimaginable was just as he tried to safe her. She smiled looking away. “Tell me you are going to make him happy…he…he is a fool…”_

_“A fool…”_

Thranduil opened his eyes wide lifting his face to look at the dwarf, Thorin was still fast asleep though he seemed to be struggling with something.

“A fool…” Thorin whispered again.

Thranduil stepped back shaking his head, his hand was still holding some of the ointment but the wound on Thorin’s chest seemed to be taken care of.

“King Thranduil?” The voice of the youngest nephews of Thorin made Thranduil jerked away from his startled state, his blue eyes found those of Kíli who were now looking at him with concern on his face. “Are you all right?”

Thranduil clenched his jaw before his own stupidity, he shut down his memories and the voices in his head approaching Thorin again. The elf swallowed down his emotions, opening his mouth to answer the young dwarf.

“I am quite all right.” He responded returning to his task, his hand trembling slightly while moving to the other wounds in the expose torso of the dwarf.

The room around him was now aware of his strange behavior but Thranduil could care less for this, he decided to work fast on his task and then leave. Thranduil lifted his hand to place it just above the dwarf’s head, he took a deep breath and soon his mind was invaded with the memories of Ravenhill. He saw Azog approaching, he could sense the desperation coming from Thorin and the resignation to his life being taken away by the orc. Thranduil was soon immersed in a myriad of memories that weren’t his and he had to wonder what had happened for him to found himself in such a situation. Then, the scene changed to something more familiar and fear and apprehension filled his heart.

_She closed her eyes with a last breath escaping her mouth, her heart beat stopping and Thranduil spending the last of his energy in trying to bring her back._

_“She is dead.” The voice reached him and he turned sharply to the source, he opened his eyes wide seeing Thorin there._

_“Out!” Thranduil struggled against the invading form of the dwarf, but Thorin soon was beside him holding his shoulders._

_“Your face…”_

_“OUT!”_

Thranduil breathed hard stepping back once again, he glared at Thorin who seemed to still be asleep though now the elf was doubting it. Thranduil turned around sharply, Balin stepped back allowing the elf to move past him and leave the tent. Everyone started speaking for twice the Elven-King had left the tent in such a strange notion, Kíli glanced at Tauriel who was looking worried. Fíli from his part was glancing at his uncle, his eyes were wide open gleaming with the same light the Elven-King had on his eyes. When Thorin turned his head, Fíli realized he had more questions than answers and his uncle was just as confused as he was.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Darkness fell in the valley, the night came in with the winds of winter colliding in the improvise campsite.

Thorin tried to walk around his tent was he found himself too weak to do so, after the incident with the Elven-king he had made sure only Bilbo, Balin Dwalin were allowed inside with the excused he needed to rest. The truth was, Thorin needed to think.

The light of the single lamp inside his tent was dying slowly, he sat again on the chair wincing when a sharp pain traveled from his wound around his chest down to the rest of his body. Thorin fixated his stare on the faltering flame of his lamp, his mind returning to the images in his head. He had felt it all, the pain and the suffering, the dwarf swallowed down remembering the sight of the dead and the heartbroken image of the Elven-King.

_Traitor…he betrayed you and your family, he turned your back on you and your people…_

_“Tell me you’re going to make him happy…”_

Thorin shook his head lifting his eyes to the sleeping form of his nephews, both of them were fast asleep recovering from the wounds that had almost taken them away. Thorin himself glanced at the mark Azog had left imprinted on his body, his fingertips brushed against the wound.

“He really saved your life.” Thorin turned around to see the elf Prince, Legolas sneaking inside his tent.

“What are you doing here?” Thorin asked sharply, whatever he had to say to the elf he had done so the day before. The questions he provided were mostly unanswered and he imagine tonight wouldn’t be the exception.

Legolas stepped forward looking around and finding the place surprisingly alone, he stood before Thorin regarding him with a contemplative stare. Thorin shifted slightly wondering why the face of the elf was so familiar yet so different from Thranduil’s one.

“What have you done to him?” Legolas inquired with a broken tone at the end of his question.

Thorin furrowed his brows, “Whatever you mean?”

“You told me you hell not ill feelings towards him, you told me you just wish to thank him and yet…” Legolas trailed off keeping himself under control. “Yet, he leaves your tent in a shaken state humiliate and…angered.”

“I do not know what you speak of, elfling.” Thorin replied sharply though his heart shrank under the implications of those words. “I only found out about the Elven-king being here after I woke up.”

“Liar.” Legolas replied icily and Thorin had to wonder if perhaps Legolas could read his mind.

“I do not care what you think of this situation, have you thought perhaps the great Elven-King is still feeling the weight of the lives he could have saved had he extended his helped to my people a long time ago?” Thorin replied dryly. “I didn’t say or do nothing to him. Perhaps, he is not as soulless as I thought him to be.”

Legolas scowled at those words, he stepped forward shaking his head, “Do not speak of my father in such a manner, dwarf. You do not understand…”

“Then, explain, for I have not understood the reason of this conversation.” Thorin commented leaning back on his chair, his hand moving to his chest wincing slightly.

Legolas glanced at the dwarf for the very first time, his eyes narrowing still when they caught a silver threat tied around a blue one. Thorin furrowed his brows glancing at his wound then at Legolas.

“I’m not bleeding anymore.” Thorin grumbled tilting his head. “But, the wound is still open.”

Legolas knew Thorin was not capable of seeing what he was seeing, the questions he hadn’t asked his father were burning on his tongue. The elf leaned forward examining the wound, he pursed his lips when he noticed his father’s life forced tied around Thorin’s one.

“You need to heal some more before your healers can put some stitches on it.”

“My healers or Thranduil?” Thorin asked sharply, Legolas straightened up looking away.

“I do not think you would like for my father to come closer to you.”

“How are you so sure?” Thorin asked furrowing his brows at his own question, Legolas dropped his shoulders looking for the very first time tired.

“You hate him, he hates you.” Legolas crossed his arms with doubt tainting his voice. “This moment of peace has nothing to do with your enmity.”

Thorin didn’t respond to the comment, he wished he could agree with the elf but for him it was impossible to find the truth behind those words. He woke up to a world of pain finding out his life had been saved by someone he swore to forget; sitting in this tent with his life and the lives of his nephews intact all he could think of was Thranduil and what could not be. Thorin eyed the young elf in front of him, still wondering about the strange moment they were sharing; in the midst of the silence and the tension coming from Legolas, it occurred to Thorin perhaps the Elven-Prince was trying to share what was hunting him but he was incapable of doing so.

“I believe hate is a strong word.” Thorin replied tiredly.

Legolas furrowed his brows staring at Thorin, “Is it?”

Thorin shrugged, “I never…I think it is more complicated it than that.”

Legolas lowered his head, “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be sharing this with you…”

“But you don’t have any other place or person to turn to, uh?” Thorin clenched his jaw taking a deep breath.

Legolas sighed, “I should go.”

Thorin looked over at his nephews then at Legolas, “I want to speak with him. Can you pass on the message?”

“Why?”

“I am alive, the mountain has been claimed and I will be King.” Thorin stated simply. “We cannot be enemies forever if we are going to live so close to one another.”

“Those were not your words a few days ago.” Legolas replied examining the reaction from the dwarf. Thorin tensed lowering his gaze in shame when he was reminded of his gold sickness.

“I went into a place I wished to never return to.” Thorin faced Legolas solemnly. “I cannot promise it won’t happen again, but while I’m still conscious of my own words, I would like to speak to him and perhaps stablish some kind of understanding with him.”

Legolas hesitated for a second before nodding sharply, “I will pass onto your words, Thorin.”

“Prince Legolas.” Thorin called to him before Legolas could leave the tent. “What was it you came to tell me? Or was this conversation something you planned before coming over?”

Legolas locked his blue eyes with those of Thorin, the room filled with a strange silence in which Legolas could almost hear the snores coming from Kíli.

“I came to speak to you because I thought you would understand.”

“Understand what?”

“What is it to love him and feel betrayed by him.” And, with those words, Legolas left.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

On the fourth morning after the battle Thorin Oakenshield stood up after dreams of the past and feelings he thought forgotten came to him during the night.

The dwarf tried to incorporate taking deep breaths to calm the pain he was feeling on his body, he glanced around to see Fíli was already awake holding something on his hand. The blond dwarf turned around to his uncle, his lips were forming a thin line while his eyes held some kind of emotion Thorin could not comprehend.

“Good morning.” Thorin grumbled nodding towards his nephew. “What is that on your hand?”

“A gift, from King Thranduil.” Fíli retorted to which Thorin merely felt something cold and sharp in his heart.

“I see.”

“He also left you something.” Fíli commented pointing to something lying beside Thorin.

The dwarf gasped watching the clean form of Orcrist resting to his right side, above it there was a single note. Thorin furrowed his brows with his heart hammering fast inside his chest, he unfolded the note watching the beautiful handwriting of the Elven-King, his words were writing in a perfect Khuzdûl and something inside Thorin shifted with strange emotions.

“ _My debt has been paid”_

Thorin swallowed feeling empty all of a sudden, he was tempted to tore the letter away but instead he grumbled it in his hand wondering why he felt betrayed and alone all over again.

 


	4. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Thranduil are playing hide and seek, Fíli and Kíli are starting to comprehend their connection to the Elven-King and Bilbo is decided to play matchmaker until Dís finds out and decides to...help him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter that I hope explains some of the things that are happening and are going to happen in the near future. Hope you like it!

**Chapter 4**

**Hide and Seek**

 

The Valley of Erebor spread before his eyes with the grey clouds closing around the brightness of the sun, the wind breaking the calm of the day while the earth filled with the sound of thunder. The sky turned a dangerous light of blue as the lighting broke into the clouds, cold bit the exposed skin of his face and arms while his eyes narrowed to protect themselves against the wind. The sound of thunder was soon joined by the sound of hammers against metal and stone, the familiarity of it all brought a the ghost of a smile to his face though his eyes remained dull still focused on the shadow of the forest of Mirkwood in the distance.

It had been more than a year since the Battle of the Five Armies, more than a year since he had brought his sister and his people from Ered Luin to start the work of reconstruction in Erebor. It took him some time, some more pain and effort but now, a year later, Erebor was ready to welcome their new King. Winter was approaching rather fast, but Thorin thought it would be appropriate for his coronation to take place when spring came a fitting beginning to the new age; everyone had been working hard and fast on the preparations, the emissaries had left already to share in the different invitations around Middle Earth for the great event and many of them had already given an answer. All but one.

Thorin crossed his arms with his eyes fixated in the form of the forest, he was unable to shut down the images inside his head, the memories of the dreams that had haunted his dreams during the night. He had every single one of them fresh in his mind, images of a former land beautiful and magnificent pulsating with life. He remembered the green of the forest and the yellow of the sun, the sound of birds and wild animals as his naked feet touched the moist ground under him, Thorin remembered Thranduil young with his features relaxed into a content expression and he looked beautiful. Thorin couldn’t shake away the memories of a happy Thranduil, a young and carefree Elven-King who called out to him tainting him with inviting touches and whispered promises.

However, this weren’t the only dreams coming to him at night. Thorin was still troubled by the recent nightmares, the nightmares wearing the face of the Elven-King that would bring with them destruction, pain and death. Thorin clenched his fists feeling his nails digging in his skin as he remembered the blood and tears on Thranduil’s face, his thin voice asking for help…for redemption…

“Uncle, are you all right?” Fíli came from behind him, attached to his young features was a frown of concern from the dwarf standing as far away from the building as he could.

Fíli followed his uncle’s eyes until he could see the shadow of Mirkwood in the distance, a pang of sympathy stretched in his mind knowing all too well what Thorin was thinking about. Or rather, who he was thinking of. Thorin shook away the images from his head, he put on a brave façade while leaving behind the thoughts of the Elven-King.

“I am.” Thorin turned to his nephew putting in a half-smile. “Everything ready?”

Fíli stared at his uncle for a moment before speaking, “Yes, Ravenhill is going to be ready for the Coronation.”

“Good, have you had any news from your brother?” Thorin asked in a casual tone, Fíli could tell there was more to this question. It was always like this, Thorin was avid from news coming from the Woodland Realm even after all this time he seemed to be waiting for answers to questions he hadn’t voiced yet.

Fíli shook his head regarding his uncle, “Not really, though I just got an invitation.”

Thorin pursed his lips creasing his brows while his right fists clenched, “An invitation? Where?”

“King Thranduil invited me over to some sort of event in the woods.” Fíli replied approaching his uncle.

Thorin seemed taken aback by this, his chest felt suddenly heavy with an unpleasant feeling. It bothered him greatly, it had bothered him ever since the first invitation came to the mountain only addressed to his nephews; for some reason the Dwarf Lord thought Thranduil would come forward and clear up the reasons as to why he had saved him and his nephews, Thorin had harbored the glimpse of hope that Thranduil would come to him to start all those conversations left in the dark.

However, Thranduil never came and, as time passed by, Thorin grew angered and disappointed with the elf. It didn’t help either his nights were filled with memories of the damned elf, it never helped when all he could think of was those blue eyes, that insufferable smirk and arrogant nature of the elf, it didn’t help either he sometimes felt Thranduil tainting the deepest of his soul.

Fíli stared at his uncle wondering what he was thinking, he knew this kind of news had always disrupted Thorin in ways many didn’t comprehend. For some it was the hated he still held for the elf that turned their backs on them when Smaug came; yet Fíli knew it wasn’t like this, Thranduil had tried to redeem himself by bringing them back from the dead and Thorin had said it over and over how grateful he was. No, Fíli knew it was something only his uncle and Thranduil understood with certainty even if they had never spoke of it. Fíli placed a hand on the wound in his abdomen absentmindedly; the warm of the elf’s souls could still be sensed there making him aware of the connection they all shared.

“Are you going?” Thorin finally questioned walking slowly down the path leading to the main road leading to the mountain.

Fíli followed his uncle shrugging, “I was going to ask you if there was anything you need of me. Kíli is still there so I was thinking of going for a little while and bring him back.”

Thorin felt empty all of a sudden, he staggered forward and would have fallen if Fíli hadn’t gotten to him on time. Fíli shot him a glance of concern Thorin ignored with a shake of his head, the dwarf pressed a hand to his chest where the wound Azog had inflicted was burning painfully.

“I’m all right.” Thorin straightened breathing with some difficulty, Fíli stepped back and they continued their walk towards Erebor. “If you so want it then go. I don’t think I’m going to need you anytime soon and perhaps, with you there, King Thranduil will finally accept or reject our invitation for the coronation.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” the words left Fíli’s mouth before he could stop them, Thorin tensed looking at his nephew out of the corner of his eyes.

For a moment, Thorin played with the idea of perhaps joining his nephews in these monthly visits to the Woodland Realm. It would be a perfect opportunity for him to confront Thranduil about…about what? Why he saved their lives? The Elf had made it clear by leaving the note and Orcrist on his bed, he had paid the life debt he owed Thorin when he turned his back on Erebor the day Smaug came.

“No, I think I will stay here. You can go though, bring your brother back and enjoy the festivities with the elves.”

Fíli sighed scratching the back of his neck, he lifted his face feeling big drops of water on his face. Rain came slowly covering the land, the sky turned a darker shade of grey while thunder broke the silence in the valley and thunder lightened up the earth. Fíli followed his uncle running down the hill turning left then right until they reached the gates of Erebor, Thorin kept on walking without glancing back at his nephew while Fíli was left standing in the middle of the hall wondering what exactly was happening with his uncle.

 

Thorin always though his happiness would be complete if he were to claim Erebor again.

When Erebor stood before him after the battle Thorin understood he felt satisfied but not happy. There was something lacking in his quest, he smiled and he kept his friends close to him but there was emptiness in the victory. When he woke up after having reached the gates of Mahal’s palace, he knew something had stopped destiny, his destiny, from happening; Thorin never imagined it would be the hand of an elf, the Elven-King’s hand, the one to bring him back and offer him a second chance.

Thorin started loose up the clothes he wore that day, leaving his heavy cloak and jacket on the ground while opening the neck of his shirt before sitting down on the chair resting in front of the fire. The dwarf glanced down at his chest where the wound from Azog’s blade was left as a remainder of the price he paid for his home. Thorin lifted his hand, his fingertips caressing the remains of the scar just as his mind held inside his head the memory of a bright being hovering above him whispering sweet words in his ear, words of encouragement and affection. The dwarf put his hand away letting out a heavy sigh; he put his head back against the chair closing his eyes only to see the image of the Elven-King there, clear as if he was really there.

“I don’t know if hate you or…” Thorin trailed off with his eyes still close to hold onto the image of the elf, an image that soon turned into his nephews faces as they told him about the invitations from the Elven-King.

Thorin growled in anger, he opened his eyes staring down at the fire of his fireplace while shaking away the memory of the first invitation they received. He thought perhaps there had been a mistake and his invitation had been misplaced, or perhaps the Princeling had decided to not give him one after the conversation they held in Thorin’s tent. But, when the second and the third and the fourth invitation came in and Thorin was not even mentioned in them, Thorin realized he had been forgotten, or merely ignored. And, for some reason, Thorin felt hurt by this.

“Are you thinking about him again?” Thorin didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. There were only two people in the mountain who would enter to his studio without even announcing themselves: Dís and Bilbo.

“I don’t know what are you talking about, Master Baggins.” Thorin scowled when Bilbo put his things around before settling on the other chair right in front of him. “I thought you hobbits know about manners and knocking before entering a place?”

“Humph, I stopped thinking about manners when you lot came into my home uninvited.” Bilbo retorted smirking.

“You will have to let go of that one day, it is not good for you to hold onto such grudges.” Thorin regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth for Bilbo shot him a knowing glare then.

“You shouldn’t be speaking about this, you know that, right?” Bilbo had an amused glint in his eyes, Thorin looked away pursing his lips.

“So, why are you here?” Thorin finally asked without looking at Bilbo.

“I thought this weather could only mean you were mopping again.” Thorin dared to turn his face to Bilbo only to see there was sympathy and understanding in the hobbit’s gaze.

He hated the fact Bilbo had gotten to know him so well.

“What is it this time?”

“It’s nothing.”

Bilbo snorted shaking his head, “Is this about the other invitation Fíli got today? Or the gift King Thranduil sent him?”

“He sent him a gift?” Thorin opened his eyes sharply, clenching his fist at this new piece of news.

Bilbo winced chuckling nervously, “Yes, but I’m pretty sure King Thranduil doesn’t know exactly what it mean to you or dwarves in general.”

If Thorin had been feeling miserable before he was now empty, tired of feeling so much and not knowing why; Thorin closed his eyes again feeling as his wound burnt with an invisible fire. Bilbo bit his lower lips glancing as a strange light form around the dwarf’s scar, the hobbit had learnt long ago neither of his friends were aware of this strange phenomenon.  Gandalf had told him to stay away from that matter for it was something Thranduil should be explaining to Thorin and his nephews. Bilbo was a lucky and special hobbit if he could see this, but it was not his place to speak about it…not unless Thranduil gave him his permission.  Of course, so far Bilbo was still wondering what all of this meant and why was happening; so far he hadn’t been brave enough to ask the Elven-King directly.

“It doesn’t matter. This is stupid.” Thorin snarled out shielding himself behind his anger. “I don’t even know why I care. The damned elf was a traitor, he thought this would be enough for me to forgive him but it takes more than a few magic tricks to make me forget he turned his back on us when we needed him.”

For a moment they went silent with Thorin still trying to comprehend what was happening while Bilbo suspected what it was. Thorin turned to his friend in frustration, crossing and uncrossing his arms before speaking again.

“I wish I know what kind of enchantment he put in me.” Thorin grumbled out.

“There was no enchantment, he just saved you and Fíli and Kíli.” Bilbo said softly though he knew while there had not been enchantment something between Thorin and Thranduil did happen that day.

Thorin dropped his shoulders tiredly glancing at Bilbo then at the fire, Bilbo leaned against his chair cocking his head to the side the hinges inside his mind working slowly around an idea. A strange yet workable idea, though he would never understand why he was doing what he was about to do.

“You know? Perhaps all of this is because you feel as you owe him something.” Bilbo winced when Thorin turned sharply towards him with fire in his eyes.

“Owe him something? If he had come to us when we needed him nothing would have happened! He was the one who had to pay for his sins!” Thorin replied forcefully.

“Well, yeah, and he did.” Bilbo shrugged. “What I mean is, perhaps there is something you owe him, something I believe you never return to him…”

Thorin opened his mouth to reply he had nothing that belong to Thranduil until his mind stopped him, there was something he still had in his power, something he had hidden in his room and kept safe in his night table waiting for the day Thranduil would come forward and ask for it to be returned to him. Thorin pursed his lips when Bilbo gave him a knowing stare, the hobbit’s lips curled up nodding slightly.

“You do remember you never return the necklace to him, right?”

“I forgot.” Thorin grumbled unconvincingly though Bilbo didn’t mention it, Thorin shifted in the chair uncomfortably musing over what Bilbo had just told him. “I never thought of it until now, but the damned elf should have said something! It is not my fault…”

Bilbo crossed his arms as well turning his stare to the fire, Thorin spoke with more viciousness and bitterness in his voice. The past still attached to his mind and words even if his eyes were betraying his real feelings, Bilbo had learnt a long time ago Thorin used his anger and resentment to cover up any other form of vulnerability he might feel. As he ended his rambling, Thorin promised to look for the necklace and return it, if only to have some peace of mind and stop feeling these strange emotions towards the elf.

Not for the first time, Bilbo wondered how many untold stories were left after Smaug came into the mountain. How many stories never got a chance to be started and how many lives were destroyed by the weight of a title, circumstances and personal history. The hobbit had suspected in the long journey he made with the company, Thorin’s animosity towards the elves had a deeper root in bad contained emotions.

Thorin shifted his position on the chair leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, Bilbo stood up placing his hand on Thorin’s shoulder giving the dwarf a half-smile.

“I believe you are hungry, what do you say if we go to the kitchens eat something and then tell me more about your plans for Erebor?”

Thorin chuckled placing his hand on the hobbit’s one, he felt grateful for Bilbo’s presence and for the friendship he offered the dwarf. With a short nod, Thorin stood up fixing his clothing and following the hobbit in the direction of the kitchens all thoughts about Thranduil and his confusion and frustration forgotten for the moment.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Thranduil watched the crystalline water on his hands cleaning away the black marks of the ink; he followed the black strains in the water before stepping back.

His wet hands hovered above the bowl while his eyes stared back at him from the mirror in the room, his white robe covering his shoulders and back but leaving his chest uncovered. The sight of the scars was visible under the dim light of the torches in the room, the shadows projected on his body contrasting against the whiteness of his skin. Thranduil took a hand to the newest scar he was now wearing, the one just above his chest so near to his heart.

The Elven-King made an attempt to touch it but he shied away from the scar when his fingertips gleamed blue. He thought after a year of not seeing or even speaking with Thorin this connection would be broken, he had been mistaken. Of course, for him things had never been easy there was always something there to remind him of his past sins and to tell him happiness was not an option for him. He had paid his debt to the dwarves yet he was still paying for whatever else he had done to wrong them.

“Are you all right?” Legolas came into his bedroom without knocking, his blue eyes gleaming with concern in them.

“I am.” Thranduil turned around with his chest now free of any marks, Legolas blinked slowly thinking his eyes had played some kind of illusion for he thought he saw some scars on his father’s chest.

Thranduil stood there waiting for Legolas to speak, the young Prince stepped forward inside the room with his eyes sweeping around until they found the sight of his father’s clothes folded neatly on the bed.

“Is there any reason for your unexpected visit to my chambers?” Thranduil inquired getting rid of his robe and walking towards his bed.

“I was just…” Legolas pursed his lips walking towards his father before settling himself on the bed, for a brief moment Thranduil remembered his wife holding their son as he fell asleep on her arms.

Thranduil looked away putting on a linen shirt, “You were just what exactly, Legolas?”

“Tauriel is with Kíli again.” Legolas replied softly looking at the ceiling. “I thought I could keep you company for a little while.”

Thranduil quirked a brow at his son as he finished putting his clothes on, the Elven-King stepped back making his way to the desk were he had been working on some official documents. He knew Legolas was staring at him with many questions at the tip of his tongue.

“Is that the only reason as to why you have come to me?” Thranduil inquired tilting his head to watch his son he realized Legolas was now wearing a soft red on his cheeks.

“No, more or less.” Legolas answered in all honesty. “I was also wondering if…”

“Yes? What is it?” Thranduil turned around resting his wait against the desk, crossing his arms he stared at his son with curiosity but with a knowing glint Legolas was tempted to hate.

“I saw a messenger left early today.” Legolas started rolling his eyes when Thranduil quirked both brows with the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“Yes, I sent a message to Erebor.” Thranduil replied nonchalantly, Legolas scowled at this glaring at his father before he too smirked back at the Elven-king.

“So, you finally decided to invite Thorin Oakenshield into our home?” Legolas felt a bubble of triumph in his chest when, this time around it was his father the one looking flustered.

Thranduil felt a sharp pain on his chest at the mention of the dwarf though he tried to hide away his real emotions from his son. Legolas was smirking at him showing a smugness Thranduil could recognize as an inherit trait from his part.

“No, I actually decided to invite Prince Fíli.” Thranduil turned around to give his son time to hide away his emotions, when he faced Legolas again the young elf had sat down with his hands on the bed.

“I see.” Legolas deepened the frown on his face, his eyes gleaming strangely before he turned to his father. “So, what do you say? Would you like to spend your afternoon with me?  We could try the training grounds; it’s been a while since we last work out together.”

The change of topic was abrupt but Thranduil accepted it without giving it a second thought, he wasn’t ready to confront his son’s words and was even less ready to know what exactly was happening between his son and the Thorin’s heir.

*****

Kíli dared to lift his stare until his eyes found those green eyes again.

He held back the smugness in his expression when Tauriel turned an interesting shade of red before looking away. Kíli felt his chest swelled with want and affection as the she-elf put a strand of hair behind her ear glancing at him occasionally while speaking with Legolas, the young dwarf played with the stone on his hand while his attention went back to the food offered to him.

“I hope your stay in my halls has been of your liking so far, Prince Kíli.” Thranduil leaned back against the chair with his hand holding his golden cup filled with red Dorwinion wine.

“It gets better every time I come over.” Kíli replied smiling at little, Thranduil snorted arching a brow at him.

“I can see that.” The Elven-King cocked his head piercing the young dwarf with his blue eyes.

Kíli was once again distracted by the sight of Tauriel, he was playing with his food around with one hand while his other hand was twirling around the token his mother had given to him a long time ago. The tabled was filled with soft conversation, music could be heard in the great hall as everyone shared the dinner time;  Thranduil followed the young dwarf’s gaze to the former captain of his guard, Tauriel was trying to ignore the eyes of the dwarf but Thranduil could tell she was failing miserably.

For a moment, Thranduil was remained of Thorin and those strange gazes he would throw Thranduil’s way when he had been invited to Thrór’s table. The Elven-King scared away the memory of Thorin’s clear eyes seeking out his, the wine suddenly tasted bitter on his lips.

“I was wondering.” Kíli started focusing his attention on Thranduil. “If I can speak with you privately after dinner.”

Thranduil looked surprised by the request, he put the cup on the table nodding briefly, “Of course, is there anything in particular you wish to discuss with me?”

Kíli cut another piece of meat from his plate, his dark eyes contemplative for a moment before speaking with a firm voice.

“I have several questions that need answers, answers only you can give me, King Thranduil.” Kíli didn’t notice the tension coming from the elf, he merely stared at his food speaking after having swallowed the food on his mouth. “And, I have also a request.”

There was some amusement in Thranduil though he also felt nervous all of a sudden; while he hadn’t said it Thranduil knew sooner or later Kíli would bring forth the question about the invitation to Thorin’s coronation.

“Of course, if you so wish it, Prince Kíli, I can give you audience in my study once dinner is over.”

True to his word, Thranduil led Kíli to his private study once dinner was over. The dwarf followed him with seriousness and eagerness in his face, his eyes taking in the strange layout of the halls he had never seen before that day. Thranduil enjoyed the innocence behind Kíli’s stare, he felt rejuvenated when the dwarf showed his appreciation for the art and the craft of the elves that had worked on the Royal Palace. Thranduil opened a great wooden door allowing Kíli to walk past him, the Elven-King closed the door behind him and with a flickered of his hand the lights inside the room lit up in a second.

“Wow.” Kíli couldn’t hide his surprise when several torches lit up giving life to the room he was now in.

Kíli moved around with curiosity his eyes went from the loveseats and the desk then to the bookshelves and the tables filled with strange objects in them. Something caught his eyes though and he made his way to the drawing of a beautiful she-elf that seemed to be facing the window.

“She is beautiful.” Kíli mumbled glancing at the drawing with avid eyes, “She looks like Legolas.”

Kíli then turned around to see Thranduil was standing right behind him, the King’s gaze had turned hollowed and sadness and regret seemed to be reflecting in the now dull eyes of the King.  Kíli felt sad all of a sudden, his eyes caught the sight of the green thread still attached to the elf standing behind him.

“She was your wife.” Kíli mumbled placing his hand on the place where his wound had been healed.

“Yes, she was.” Thranduil turned around sharply and the moment was broken by his abruptness, the King sat down in front of his desk before signaling with his hand the chair right in front of him. “Sit down, Prince Kíli and tell me what is it that you want to ask me.”

Kíli gave the painting one last glance before sitting on the chair in front of Thranduil, the young dwarf eyed the elf with some curiosity and a hint of understanding in his eyes. The Elven-King felt unnerved under such a stare, he never thought the race of Durin was capable of shaking his world in the way these three dwarves had been doing so in the last year. Silence grew between them with Kíli looking for ways to start the conversation, Thranduil was showing great patience regarding Kíli half-amused and half-expectant. Finally, Kíli took a deep breath placing his hand in the wound that was still firmly attached to the silver thread that represented the elf sitting in front of him.

“I have many questions, and I believe we hadn’t spoken about this mainly because at first I was grateful to be alive and then I got distracted by Tauriel.” Kíli hated the fact his cheeks burn red for a moment, but he lifted his face ready to face the elf with determination.

Thranduil felt his heart beating faster, his face never changed even though his soul felt restless all of a sudden. Kíli cocked his head playing with the token in his hand before speaking again.

“I have wondered why you saved me and Fíli and uncle.” Kíli furrowed his brows for a moment. “I thought at first you felt obligated to do so until I realized there was no one making you do it.”

“I didn’t do it out of obligation.” Thranduil spoke discovering his voice was firm and almost untouched by the anxiety he felt in his heart. “I did because it was the right thing to do and also, because I owed it to you and your people.”

“And uncle, you owed to him for not helping us when Smaug came.” Kíli pursed his lips crossing his arms with a frown on his face.

For a moment Thranduil remained silent before he spoke with a soft voice, something that caught Kíli by surprised.

“Yes, I owed to Thorin as well.” Thranduil didn’t dare to look over at Kíli who was shooting curious glances at him. “I had hoped my intervention would have been enough for my debt with him to be paid.”

Kíli remembered the time he woke up to find the Elven-king leaving Orcrist and a note on his uncle’s bed, he remembered Fíli had silent him with a single stare before Kíli could say something to the elf. At that time, Kíli hadn’t understood exactly why Fíli was so passive watching their uncle’s enemy so close to him, that was until Thorin woke up and Kíli realized there was only hurt and bitterness in his uncle when he heard about Thranduil’s departure. It had become even worse after Kíli and Fíli started receiving the invitations from the elf’s part whereas Thorin was ignored by him. When Kíli observed Thranduil again he realized the elf was waiting for his retaliation, for Kíli to do or say something against the elf.

“Thank you.” Kíli finally spoke clearly giving the Elven-King a half-smile. Thranduil opened his eyes in surprise, he stared at Kíli who gave him a honest smile before repeating his gratefulness to him.

“I don’t think I have said it so far. Thank you for saving me, for saving us.” Kíli stood up to bow before Thranduil. “Thank you for welcoming me in your house and for letting me see we were wrong about you.”

Thranduil felt his jaw clenched unable to give the dwarf an answer, he merely nodded curtly looking away unable to bear the look so much like Thorin’s one. Thranduil swallowed down his tears hating the weakness his emotions brought at the sight of such a gesture coming from Kíli, the Elven-King looked away to hide away his emotions as Kíli sat down again.

“I have other questions, questions regarding this strange threads of light coming from Fíli, uncle and me all of them joined to one coming from you.” Kíli commented ignoring the sudden change in the dwarf. “I was going to ask you about it on our last visit, but Fíli convinced me it wasn’t the time. However, I believe this is the right time because soon uncle is going to be a King and I don’t want him in danger or anything like that.”

“He is not in danger.” Thranduil assured Kíli though he pretended to not hear or understand the rest of Kíli’s questions.

Kíli tilted his head then his fingertips caressing the green thread coming from him, “And this? What does it mean and why only me and Fíli seem to have it and notice it?”

For a long time Thranduil didn’t answer, silence filled the room as Kíli waited for the conversation to continue. He wasn’t about to leave the room until his questions had been answered and he could ask the most important question in his life; the night grew around them, the cold wind sneaked inside the room while the lights of the torches flickered slightly. Kíli took a deep breath feeling his body trembled with nervousness, he scowled when his heart beat a tad bit faster and his mind stirred with strange images of Thranduil. The Dwarven-Prince lifted his chin realizing the blue eyes of the elf were on him, the silver and green threads gleamed brightly and Kíli’s body warm up with affection and fear.

“What are you doing?” Kíli asked and his voice trembled slightly for the emotions growing in him were not completely his.

“You ask me about the green and silver thread, yet I have seen you know the answer to this question.” Thranduil rested his hands on the armrest of his chair, Kíli quirked a brow before replying.

“The green one is mine and the silver one is yours.” Kíli answered slowly. “Sometimes I feel weak, and when I do yours gleams brighter and I feel better again.”

Thranduil offered a tiny smile before his face turned into a mask of memory, “I was born a healer, my powers were beyond those of the normal healers amongst my people. My purpose was to save people from a certain dead, it wasn’t my call, though. I wanted to be a warrior and a warrior I was until…war came upon us and my ability was needed.”

“So, this is part of your magic?”

“It is my soul.” Thranduil replied wondering why the sudden honesty from his part, why Kíli. And then, the answer came to him it almost made him run…this conversation was easy because Kíli looked like Thorin but he wasn’t Thorin thus Thranduil could pretend it was the other dwarf sitting before him. Finally, he could be honest with Thorin without needing to hide himself in his anger, bitterness and witty comments.

“Your soul?” Kíli tasted the word while his hands touched the silver thread with reverence, he felt a jolt of electric current on his fingers which made him pull his hand away. “But how could it be?”

“Magic.” Thranduil replied simply. “It is who I am though this ability comes with a price.”

“There’s nothing for free in this life, right?” Kíli commented giving Thranduil a half-smile. “Uncle used to tell us this whenever we went out of Ered Luin to do some odd jobs here and there.”

“How wise of him.” Thranduil commented shaking his head. “No, there’s nothing for free in this life or the other. My ability sometimes is not as effective as some wish it to be, you and I, as well as your brother and your uncle are connected mainly because the damage was so deep I have to make sure you could survive while you recover.”

“So, you what? Tied yourself to us? To our souls?” Kíli blinked in confusion. “Is my soul green?”

Thranduil rolled his eyes feeling the weight of this conversation on the growing headache he was feeling.

“Yes, in a way your soul is green. I…I haven’t tied to you or your brother and uncle exactly.” Thranduil caressed the silver thread that was his and suddenly Kíli stopped watching them.

“Hey! They’re gone!” Thranduil chuckled shaking his head.

“What I did with you and your family was beyond the rules of my healing ability. You can survive without me but our life forces will forever be tied in some way.” Thranduil explained as if it was that simple.

Kíli was tempted to ask more questions but he soon realized Thranduil had revealed more than he hoped for, the Dwarven-Prince decided he would leave the topic for now. Though, with this new knowledge now he could corner Gandalf and demand for more explanations or perhaps he could convinced Tauriel to take him to the library so he could study about this topic. Kíli had a feeling the Elven-King was not being completely honest with him.

“One last question, though.” Kíli put his hand on his pocket before putting the token on the table, Thranduil glanced at it then at Kíli.

“Go ahead.”

“Well, actually there are two last questions.” Kíli smiled sheepishly at him, Thranduil nodded smiling as well. “First, this connection…do you like read our minds or something like that?”

Thranduil shook his head, “No, it can be done but I would never try it against your will. I’m usually controlling the connection so you won’t feel me and I won’t feel you in any way. You can rest assure I will never break this rule, it would be quite dishonorable from my part.”

“I believe you.” Kíli replied with conviction. “I know you will never do something to harm us, and you can trust Fíli and I will never do something to hurt you or try to read you in any way.”

“I know.” Thranduil didn’t even bother to tell Kíli he didn’t believe them capable of such feature, though he appreciate the sentiment behind Kíli’s words. “There is one last question left, tell me young Kíli was it is you wish to ask me?”

Suddenly, Kíli looked away biting his lips in a nervous gesture before standing up his hand on the token he had with him at all times.

“I wish to court Tauriel.” Kíli said in one single breath. “I wish to marry her and make her happy, I know she has not family, she has only you and Legolas so I thought I will ask you first before going to her.”

His second breath was spend in the last part of his sentence, Kíli felt suddenly nervous when those blue eyes of the King gleamed strangely at him.  This has been his intention from the very beginning, he had followed his mother and Fíli’s advice of waiting a year before taking this step and now he was ready to follow his heart.

“You wish to marry her?” Thranduil replied still not quite believing what he was hearing; of course, he had known Kíli and Tauriel had been dancing around one another without daring to take a step forward in their relationship. However, the Elven-King never thought the dwarf’s feelings from his protégée ran so deep he was already speaking of marriage.

“Yes, sir, I do.” Kíli fidgeted nervously sliding the token towards Thranduil. “I have the means to protect her and to provide her with whatever she wants and needs, this token…it’s invaluable, it means the world to me and I want this to be my first courting gift to her.”

“Courting gift?”

“Yes, it is a costume to give something invaluable to our one. A symbol that our love for them means more than material things.” Kíli put his hand away leaving the token on the table. “So, do I have your permission to court Tauriel and…and to marry her?”

Thranduil glanced at the token remembering the small stone Tauriel had carried with her while Kíli recovered, the Elven-King grabbed with his long fingers sensing the emotions behind the gesture. He lifted his eyes to see Kíli was still glancing at him expectantly, the King leaned back quirking a brow at the dwarf.

“Is she agreeable to the idea of you courting her?” Thranduil finally asked, Kíli hesitated for a moment before nodding.

“I think so.”

“No, you can’t think so. You have to be sure.” Thranduil leaned forward piercing the young dwarf with his eyes.

Kíli swallowed before nodding, “Yes, I am sure. We discussed it, at one time and well…now that uncle is going to be crowned King and everything, I am ready to finally court her properly. I really, really love her.”

And Thranduil could see this, not only for what he was seeing at the moment but for what he felt when he first healed the young dwarf. As if that wasn’t enough, Thranduil had seen them from afar, a young love he never thought would progress the way he did. He wondered if perhaps they hadn’t thought about the future, a future in which Kíli would grow old and Tauriel would remain; the Elven-King shook away those dark thoughts before staring at Kíli in all seriousness.

“I have seen it, Prince Kíli. I have seen the growing love between you two, I surely hope you know what this means for I will hold you accountable if she is to be hurt in any way.”

“Yes, of course, I will never allow anything to happen to her. Never.” Kíli answered anxiously.

“Then, Kíli son of Dís, you have my permission to court her and to eventually marry her if she so wishes to.” Thranduil felt a strange emotions inside his chest, his heart shrank and his mind betrayed him by showing him the memory of a smiling Thorin…a smile meant only for Thranduil.

Kíli thanked the king before turning around and leaving to share the good news with Tauriel, he never realized he left behind a thoughtful King who know could not stop thinking about Thorin.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

When Bilbo entered the small flat he had been given in Erebor he never expected to find the sister of his best friend waiting for him with a scowl on her face.

Bilbo froze bewildered by this unexpected visit, he closed the door behind him approaching the she-dwarf cautiously. Dís never took her eyes off of the hobbit, she tilted her head before signaling the loveseat right in front of her a silent invitation the hobbit was reluctant to take. It wasn’t as if he was afraid of Dís, it was more that he felt intimidate by her in ways he was not sure he quite comprehend completely.

Dís shifted in the chair making herself comfortable before resting her elbows on the armrest looking around the place before settling her clear eyes on Bilbo.

“I see you have made yourself comfortable in your new home, Master Baggins.” When Dís spoke Bilbo could hear the difference between Thorin and his sister.

Thorin was born and raised to be a King, his personality and the fire growing in him made of Thorin a leader easy to follow and hardly to question. Dís on the other hand had built authority and decision in her tone, her posture showed someone open to negotiate with but not to mess with. Motherhood and her inheritance as a part of the Durín lineage built her the spirit of a queen that would never sit on the throne but that would forever meant to rule. In a way, Thorin was the one giving orders, but Dís was the executioner.

So, with this knowledge in mind, Bilbo knew this unexpected visit had something else in between the lines of a social reunion. He knew by the way the she-dwarf was glancing at him Dís was either mad at him or planning something; Bilbo soon realized he was about to enter a game he wasn’t sure he wanted to play. By the end of the conversation, Bilbo realized he was already playing though.

“Yes, well, it was nice of Thorin to give me this place. I can’t say I don’t miss the Shire because I do.” Bilbo said softly sitting down looking right at Dís. “The Shire will always be home but now…well, now I have two homes. Thorin and the company have made sure I feel as if I belong here.”

“Indeed, my brother is more sentimental that he let on.” Dís commented with a hint of tenderness in her voice. “He had never been capable of being cruel or uninterested in the needs of others. It used to drive grandfather mad to see his kind nature, though father was very proud of him.”

“As he should be.” Bilbo leaned back against the chair eyeing the she-dwarf carefully, silence fell between them until Bilbo decided this had gone for far too long.

Dís smirked when she saw the hobbit leaning forward pursing his lips before speaking, “Lady Dís, I am very flattered you have come to my home and enter…to wait for me.”

Dís snorted at the unspoken reproach from Bilbo’s part, the hobbit ignored this trying to hide away his reddening ears.

“Still, I have to say I am surprised to find you here and I have to wonder to why do I owe this visit.” Bilbo straightened back up tapping his fingers on the chair looking everywhere but at the she-dwarf sitting in front of him.

For some reason, Dís made him nervous, all tingly and eager.

“I was speaking with my brother early in the day and he told me something curious.” Dís rested her cheek on her left hand, her eyes dancing around the room with her features relaxing slightly. “My brother…I love him too much to see him hurt or miserable or simply act like a fool because there are things he doesn’t understand or he is not completely sure about them.”

Bilbo blinked a couple of times in confusion tensing slightly, the hobbit tried to decipher what exactly Dís meant by her words. Dís gave a crooked smile to the hobbit, she swallowed her emotions before speaking again.

“When I first arrived here, Master Baggins, I expected Thorin to hate King Thranduil.” There was memory in Dís gaze, she pursed her lips while the room filled with silence and Bilbo wondered what other stories he hadn’t been told yet.

“My brother…he has always had a soft spot for the elf, I fully expected for him to hate Thranduil until I heard about the heroic deed the elf did with my family.” Dís chuckled shaking her head. “I expected to hate him until I heard he brought my boys back, that it was thanks to him they were alive.”

Now, Bilbo was even more puzzle than before because he had the impression Thorin hated with all the forces of his heart the Elven-King but then…well, then Bilbo had been faced with certain facts that made him rethink his first assumptions. Dís regarded him with a strange glint in her eyes, the she-dwarf sighed leaning back against the chair playing with her fingers.

“I know you told Thorin to return the necklace of Lasgalen, as a way to find peace to his troubled mind.” Dís snorted in disbelief shaking her head. “It won’t bring peace to his mind because what he had with Thranduil is unresolved issues that dated way before to Smaug’s appearance.”

Bilbo arched his brows making a face, “You mean, Thorin and the Elven-King…”

“Oh, no. Thorin was an idiot and he had never been good with courting or anything like that.” Dís waved her hand around shaking her head with certain amusement. “No, the unresolved issues are what Thorin never did in the past, what he regretted never happened. Now that he had realized Thranduil was not the bastard he thought he was, well Thorin went back to the confusion he felt in his younger days.”

“I still don’t get it, Lady Dís. Why exactly are you here and why are you telling me this?” Bilbo inquired again trying to find a reason for this visit, Dís turned to him offering a half-smile.

“I am here, Master Baggins because you are going to help me.”

“Help you?” Dread filled Bilbo’s heart when he noticed the mischief hidden in the she-dwarf’s eyes.

“Yes, you will help me to make sure my brother doesn’t make the same mistakes this time around.”

 


End file.
